


Just out of Reach

by Khaiyo



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Amputee Marco, Blind Jean, Gay high school dweebs, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 62,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaiyo/pseuds/Khaiyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time I met Jean Kirschtein was a total accident and he, being Jean Kirschtein was a total ass about it.</p><p>It was because the two of us were late, and I guess the whole thing was kind of -well actually- it was really my fault.</p><p>Marco is incredibly self conscious about having lost his arm to cancer even two years after it happened.<br/>Jean is completely infuriated about having his sight robbed from him only a few days after he turned fifteen.<br/>After being thrust into each other's lives in their final year of high school, Marco and Jean discover that finding each other was the first step toward putting themselves back together and healing old wounds that had happened life times ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting You

 

The first time I met Jean Kirschtein was a total accident and he, being Jean Kirschtein was a total ass about it.

It was because the two of us were late, and I guess the whole thing was kind of -well actually- it was really my fault.

I had completely forgot to set an alarm on my phone which was undeniably stupid because I should have known that mom was going to try and baby me around before I could even attempt to leave for school. She had made me breakfast, put all my school supplies into my bag and she had even picked out a pair of clothes for me. Which, yes, I did wear but swapped out the plain grey sweater she had picked for my Adventure Time hoodie.

I had totally overpaid for that thing and fully intended to wear it until I lay on my death bed in seventy years. I didn't care if half of my grade thought it was dorky; that hoodie was  _ _awesome.__

Mom was just trying to be helpful, which I acknowledged but I was eighteen years old, not four. When I came downstairs I made sure to give her a kiss on the cheek and thank her for her help even though we both knew that I really, really didn't need it.

I knew how nervous she was. It was a mutual feeling but it was pitiful really.

When I managed to finally push her out the door to drive me to school it was 8:25. It was set in stone that I was going to be late. The drive there took at least ten minutes and my homeroom started at 8:30 this year and despite the anxious feeling stirring inside my stomach; I decided not to dwell on that. As I made my way to the across our short lane way, I became preoccupied with trying to dig my schedule out of my bag without dexterity.  In my ardent attempt, I spun around myself in circles; trying to reach into the contents of my bag. I suppose I perhaps looked like a wired dog trying to catch it's tail or a dizzy ballerina finishing a lousy routine. Clumsily, I bumped into the bumper of the rust bucket we called a car and it in turn let out a creaking noise in protest. I skittishly looked around to make sure none of our relatively new neighbours had seen my embarrassing mishap before I danced around the car and swung myself into the passenger seat.

I made myself comfortable in the fabric torn seat and examined the time slot that held my homeroom as I absent-mindedly rubbed the polyester fabric filling of the seat between my fingers. I had World Politics first period with Mr. E. Smith. I had never had him as a teacher before but I was sure he would understand my lateness after a good enough explanation.

If he didn't I could always just talk to him after class.

Mom was eerily silent as we drove so instead of trying to make conversation, I decided to lean my head against the window panel and shut my eyes in an attempt enjoy the silence and cruise along to the feeling of new spring. I wanted the summer back. I didn't hate first days like mom did **,** but god they were awful.

A million eyes just.. watching. Following me about with every single step I took with looks of absolute loathing. First days of anything for me were stare fests. The freshmen, the new kids, everyone just wanted to get a good ol' look at me.

It wasn't like they hadn't heard of amputees before -people in this town, they weren't stupid- but most of them, they'd never thought they would go to school with one. I hated walking down the halls and hearing people whisper and ask each other if they knew what happened to the one armed kid. I felt like I needed a shirt with a bunch of crabs on it that said:  _ _Cancer bit off my arm.__

Zodiac crabs, not STD crabs. I didn't want STDS to bite off my anything.

“You're still hanging out with your friends right?” Mom asked softly, not taking her eyes off the road to look at me.

I opened my eyes, pushing my thoughts to the back of my mind and smiled at her. “Yeah, of course. In fact, Sasha asked me if I wanted to go see a movie with her on Saturday.”

She perked immediately and looked over at me. “Like a date?”

I leaned my head back against the headrest and laughed as I averted my eyes to look at the stained ceiling. “Nah, she's had a thing for Connie since middle school. You know that.”

She nodded but I could feel her disappointment swirling around in the air between us like thick rain clouds. “Are you going to go?” she wondered out loud as she readjusted her rear view mirror.

“I'm thinking about it.” I told her honestly “Probably not though.”

“You need to get out of the house more Marco, you barely saw any of your friends this summer.”

“Lies,” I declared in a fake, pompous voice. “I worked with Armin and Connie at camp in Sina all summer and in doing which saw Sasha, Eren and Mikasa almost every day.”

“You know what I mean Marco.”

I let my pompous voice drop with a sigh. “Mom, I like staying home. Going out just isn't my thing. It's, well, it's uncomfortable.”

She let out a long sigh, mimicking mine, and turned her eyes back to the road. “Okay.”

We drove the rest of the way to the school in silence. I did feel a little bit guilty because she was right. The amount of time I spent at home was unhealthy and as much as I loved my friends, I hardly ever agreed to any outings that they invited me to. I didn't like new things, I liked to stay home. Being at home was familiar and safe and full of things I could do without the embarrassing two-armed help of friends and strangers, even if mom liked to lend me a hand when I didn't need it.

Mom pulled into the school parking lot and sent me a small, weak smile. “Right, well.. have a good day Marco.”

I leaned over and kissed her cheek as I unbuckled my seat belt and reached uncomfortably over myself to open the door. “I will, I promise. I love you.” I informed her as I shuffled awkwardly out of the small vehicle.

After almost hitting my head on the low roof, I took a step back from the car, grinned and gave her a thumbs up. She frowned but waved before she drove away. I watched her drive away, which I guess wasn't the smartest choice to make with time being a prominent factor this morning but I watched anyway. I shook my head and tore my eyes away from the road.

I dug out my schedule from my bag once again as I jogged in the main doors and looked at the homeroom number. 302. It was a good thing stairs were my favourite thing in existence because I would be doing all three flights of them first thing in the morning everyday for the rest of my school career. I felt myself roll my eyes absent-mindedly and I stuffed the schedule back into my bag. My jog slowed down to a fast walk, I just had to turn the corner get to the stairwell and then-

 

Someone else turned the corner.

“OUFF!” I exclaimed and flew backward before hitting the ground.

“FUCK!” The other person yelled echoing my exclamation.

Oh god.

I looked up from my seat on the ground in a panic to find another boy at eye level who had also fallen over due to our collision.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” He shouted. The sound echoed in the hall making me cringe back in surprise. He looked angrily down at the ground and I noticed then that unlike me he had been carrying his books and it was completely my fault that they were now all over the floor.

“Oh god, oh god I am so sorry!” I professed empathetically as I rushed to my feet and over to help him. I didn't think I'd ever seen him before so he must have been new. I was such an ass knocking a new kid on _his_ ass on his first day. “It was an accident, god oh, I'm so sorry!” I picked up one of his books that had flew toward my feet and tried to hand it to him without looking him in the eyes. “I wasn't watching where I was going I mean I should have-”

I stopped talking abruptly as I noticed the walking stick laying beside his hands. He looked up at me or rather in my general direction and I drew back. My mouth fell open.

Kudos to me for knocking over a blind kid. 

“Oh my fucking god, stop staring!” he snapped at me yanking his textbook from my hand, throwing a wrench in my thoughts. I shut my mouth as if it would help and averted my eyes. “I wasn't-”

“Don't even fucking try.” he hissed out as he felt around the ground for the rest of his books.

I bent back over without a word and scoped up a notebook that had fallen out of his reach and handed it to him. “I really am sorry, are you okay?” I asked trying my hardest to calm the rage that was coming off of him in waves.

“Peachy.” He replied shortly, his sarcasm making me cringe into myself once again. He shoved his books into his bag with over exaggerated force and grabbed his stick before racing up on to his feet.

I noted to myself that even though he was shorter than I was by a few inches and blind, he sure as hell didn't look like someone who's bad side I would want to be on. The black jacket he was wearing- which had the words BEEN TO HELL in huge font spilled across the front- was at least three sizes too big and sagged off of his shoulders due to his lean build. His skinny jeans on the other hand, hung so tight against his legs and his backside, that I probably could have calculated the slope of his ass using ninth grade math equations. “Are you still staring at me?” he asked rather harshly.

I let out a small awkward laugh and tried to look past his nose, lip and ears which were all covered in different sorts of piercings. “I was just,” I paused, trying to think of something to say. “I just like your hair is all.”

He touched it self consciously and I swore I saw a slight flush creep across his cheeks .His hair was definitely different from what I was used to seeing. A blond tuft of lay on the top of his head while the bottom was an styled into an ombre undercut. I really did like it though, it suited him.

Due to his blush, his mean facade was let down for just a second. I smiled at him out of habit. Without him looking like he was deciding where to toss my body after he murdered me, I decided that now was probably a good time to apologize again. “I really am sorry I knocked you down, I'll catch you lat-” I started to say as I begun to walk forward.

“Wait.” He demanded loudly and he reached for me but because of my lack of arm, he grabbed the air instead. He looked horribly confused to a point where it was almost comical. I opened my mouth to tell him about my arm but stopped myself. I mean, for the first time in my life I didn't have to explain my disability. He didn't know what I looked like, he couldn't see my lack of limbs and he was probably the first person to actually get mad at me to my face since I lost my arm.

Now, I don't mean to be sadistic but it was nice.

“Yeah?” I asked turning to face him again.

“Could you show me where the elevator is?” he mumbled under his breath. “I can't find it.”I stared at him and raised an eyebrow at him. His cheeks were red and it almost looked like he was suffocating himself by asking for help. I'd never seen someone looking that distressed over something as small as asking for directions.

I thought about the time but pushed that thought to the back of my mind. He was blind and wandering around the school, not to mention I had just knocked him over. I kind of owed him. “Sure, I can.” I told him lightly and I grabbed for his right sleeve so I could walk beside him.

The elevator was in the general direction of the stairwell I wanted to go up anyway.

It took me a minute to realize that he was glaring down at where my hand was holding his sleeve in complete distaste. I made a mental note not to do it again and let go.

When we got to the elevator, he took the key from around his neck and started to feel the wall for the slot to turn it on with. I guided his hand slightly, but not so much that he could give me a hard time for. The door opened with a loud ping and he got on. He wordlessly held his hand against the door to keep it from closing. “Well,” he told me, irritation clearly etched into his voice after he held the door for more than a couple seconds. “get on.”

I held up my hand and stepped backward. “You don't have to-”

“Get on the goddamn elevator.” He demanded. I didn't want to make him angry again so I shuffled on to the platform beside him. He grinned to himself. “I scare you.” he stated as he felt around for the buttons to take us upward.

He most definitely pressed the button with a lot more force than needed and I shifted away from him slightly. I sighed, at least we were heading to the third floor.

“I don't mean to be rude but, shouldn't you have someone helping you around on your first day?” I said out loud even though I probably shouldn't have.

He paused for a moment, nodded and said with complete confidence. “Yep, got ditched.”

I felt a pang of sympathy for him. “Oh.”

“Mhmm.” he said biting at his lip, to what I guess meant he was caught in his own thoughts.

Silence.

“I'm Marco.” I stated, breaking the silence. “Marco Bodt.”

“Jean.” he told me, without looking over. I guess it really didn't matter if he looked over or not, it was all the same sight to him. Jean didn't seem to like making small talk so I let myself fall back into the silence he had originally created.

The doors pinged again and we both stepped off in perfect sync. “Now,” Jean hummed under his breath to himself and not to me. “Which way to 302?”

“World Politics?” I asked him a little surprised. “With Mr. Smith?”

He didn't seem the least bit surprised that I knew what class it was, he just smirked. It was the kind of smug smirk that makes you want to back hand someone because with the stupid look on their face, they look like they know the secrets to the universe. Jean spoke with the same amount of sass that was in his smirk. “That's the one. Tell me Marco, do we happen to be in the same homeroom?”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on,” I uttered as I fell in stride beside him. “You're pretty lucky I ran into you.” I stated.

I saw him smirk again from the corner of my eye. “Quite literally so.”

So Jean had two emotions, smug and angry. Brilliant.

We made our way down the hall but Jean seemed to be in no particular hurry so we didn't get to our the class as quickly as I would have hoped. I didn't really mind though because when I took a minute to glance over at him, the sight made me want to burst into a fit of giggles. He was practically  _ _strolling__  down the hall like a duke from 18th century France. Pierced, BEEN TO HELL boy Jean, dressed in a damper suit and top hat. I would pay to see that sight.

I lay my hand against the door when we finally arrived at room 302. This wasn't going to be fun by any means. “So are you going to fucking knock or am I going to kick the door?” Jean snapped beside me.

“Just wait a-”

A loud bang echoed through the hall as his foot made contact with the door.

I stared at him incredulously and he must have sensed it because he shrugged. “I did ask you first.” he said blandly.

I was about to say something back when the door flew open to reveal a large man with the biggest eyebrows I have ever seen in my entire life. I caught a glimpse at the clock behind him, 8:58.

Shit.

“Kirschtein and Bodt?” he asked us both.

I half expected Jean to make a stupid comment but he stayed completely silent. I realized that he had inched away from being beside me to almost behind me.

I nodded for the both of us, seeing that he wasn't going to say anything. “Yeah, sorry we're late we had an incident downstairs.” I told him as I began to notice that every single pair of eyes in the entire classroom were focused on the two of us. Most eyes were widened, and some were whispering to their friends. I knew most of them though so I knew they weren't discussing me. Something told me they were a little more interested in the guy who was trying to hide behind me. Out of the corner of my eye though, I saw Bertholdt sitting with Reiner the desks in front of what I guessed was a typewriter and Armin and Sasha in front of them. Sasha and Reiner were waving at me excitedly and Armin was trying to calm them down. I sent them a small wave back.

Mr. Smith looked at us and sighed. “Mr. Kirschtein, your typewriter is set up at the desk at the back Mr. Bodt, just sit wherever there's space.”

He let us into the classroom and before I sat I realized that Jean had no idea where he was headed and for a split second he looked absolutely terrified. I nudged his arm with mine. “Come on.” I said a little more gentility this time to which he nodded enthusiastically.

I walked with him over to the two back desks and sat down beside him, which I think surprised him more than anything. His braille typewriter was on the desk on the right, so I sat to the left of him.

It almost looked like Jean was going to thank me but the second I sat down at my desk Reiner turned around and grinned. “We thought you were ditching.” he said blatantly.

Jean shut his mouth quietly and turned to his bag to pull out his books.

I let my gaze linger on Jean for another second who was now preoccupied with handling his textbooks. I sighed, so much for a thank you.

“Reiner thought you were ditching,” Sasha corrected. “Bertholdt and Armin and I know you are too nice a person for that life. I mean can you imagine Marco Bodt, the living embodiment of Jesus, living on the edge and skipping the first day?”

That made me blush and hide my face in my hand. “I'm not the living embodiment of Jesus.” I mumbled.

“Yeah, shove off Sasha.” Reiner said through another huge grin. “Even Jesus had wine once and a while.”

“You'd know since that's the only thing you can get drunk off of.” Bertl mumbled under his breath and Sasha snorted and hit Bertholdt on the back before throwing her head back to laugh. I laughed at his surprised face behind my hand. Mr. Smith looked over at us from the papers he held in his hands with an unamused gaze.

I flushed again and ducked my head back down. Mr. Smith cleared his throat and began to walk around the room handing out little slips of paper which held codes on them. “These are your locker numbers.” he told us. “You can drop off your belongings there after class. ”

He walked up and down the rows, handing out slips of paper. Sasha and Bertholdt had lockers beside one another, and upon hearing the news, Sasha insisted on Bertholdt giving her a high five. He looked uncomfortable but returned the gesture anyway.

Ever since I met him, he had always seemed to be uncomfortable around anyone unless they were Reiner or Annie. It had always been that way so it didn't bug anyone as much as it used to and Reiner obviously didn't mind. He adored the attention his boyfriend was constantly giving him.

Reiner whined and asked Sasha if she wanted to trade with him, to which she gave him a no, and told him that he had to learn to share Bertholdt with everyone.

Toward the end of their conversation, Bertholdt was as red as a tomato.

Armin grinned when he saw our lockers were almost beside one another. See, I liked Armin, he was probably my closest friend out of my entire friend group. He didn't feel the constant need to be talking 24/7 like Reiner, Sasha or Connie. We could hang out and just read if we wanted to. I could tell him anything and he gave honest opinion.

I came out of my thoughts when I noticed that Jean was holding his slip of paper tightly in his hands and was scowling down at it. I looked over his shoulder and told him the numbers quietly, so no one else could hear. “I can show you where it is if you want.” I told him.

“Are you this nice to everyone or am I just blind?” he snarled at me, loudly, drawing the others attention back over to us.

Armin looked over at me and gave me a small, encouraging smile before he brought himself into the conversation. “Yeah, that's Marco for you.” he said trying to pull some of Jean's snotty attitude off of me.

“Too nice for his own good.” Reiner chimed in, sending me a wink. “Though maybe since he hasn't even introduced his new friend, we've misjudged him. Maybe our Marco is loosing his spark.”

I flushed. “Sorry, sorry!” I squeaked out which made Reiner laugh obnoxiously. “Everyone this is Jean. Jean this is Reiner, Bertl, Sasha and Armin.”

The four of them let out a chorus of enthusiastic heys just to have Jean let out a small and grumpy sounding 'hi' in return before he turned back to his text book. Reiner raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. From what I had gathered about Jean, that was just how he was. Rude, arrogant and maybe even a little bit shy.

Mr. Smith cleared his throat, calling everyone's attention to the power point on the smart board. Armin flashed me another small smile before the four of them turned around to focus on the board. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Bertholdt and Reiner were holding hands under the desk. I was the only one in the room that could possibly catch a glimpse at their intertwined hands so I guess they didn't care if I could see or not.

I switched my attention to the power point and rested my head on my hand. It didn't seem to be very important, just the guidelines of what we were going to learn and how he marked assignments and tests. He told us right before he started talking that he wouldn't be giving us this note, so we should copy it down for ourselves. I sighed and lifted my head from my palm and reached into my backpack to pull out a notebook and pen.

Some things I gathered about Mr. Erwin Smith by listening to him drone on was that a) he was bored with his teaching job b) he didn't really seem to care if we were going to pass his class or not and c) he had way too many pictures and thought too highly of guidance counsellor Levi Ackerman.

After almost an entire class of listening to his bored and unexcited voice I realized that the words I had been writing down on the page had turned into doodles of stars and smiley faces. I sighed. It was the first day and I was already bored out of my mind. I leaned back in my seat, distraught. This must be a personal record.

I let my eyes wander from my paper to look over at my friends. Armin was completely focused on taking down notes, which didn't surprise me because if anyone out of the five of us needed this course, it was him since he actually wanted to work for the government.

Sasha had her head not-too-discretely on the desk which was a even less of a surprise than Armin being focused. I was nearly positive that she had only been put in the class because the Gym course she wanted to take was full.

I glanced over at Reiner and Bertholdt who appeared to be playing tick tac toe in the margins of Reiner's notebook. Bertholdt looked a little distressed. I knew he wanted to be paying attention by the looks of angst he was sending to Reiner. He had told me when we signed up for our courses that he wanted to take World Politics because his dad could get him a job in politics if he got high enough grades. Of course Reiner had signed up too since he had no idea what he wanted to do except spend time with Bertl.

My eyes soon found themselves on the grumpy boy sitting beside me. He obviously wasn't taking down notes. His typewriter was untouched and his arms were tightly crossed over his chest. His eyebrows were knit and his lips were pursed, I couldn't really tell if he was listening to Erwin talk or if he was daydreaming in his own little world where everything was as cranky as him.

The thought of cranky, munchkin sized Jeans with squeaky, annoying voices made me grin widely like an idiot.

I only realized that I was grinning when Erwin stopped talking and sent me a questioning look by raising his massive eyebrows. I shrugged. Colour pumped into my cheeks and gave him a small embarrassed smile before ducking my face back down to look at my star filled notebook. Reiner chuckled under his breath and reached back over the desks to ruffle my hair. “Calm down Freckled Jesus,” he told me lightly. “you look like you're going to explode.”

I opened my mouth to say something back but the bell sounding over the PA cut me off before I could get very far into my sentence. Half a second must have passed before Sasha and Reiner were on their feet with their bags in their hands. Bertholdt sighed and went to pile his books into his bag but Reiner grabbed them for him and insisted on carrying them. Bertholdt complied and sent us all a small wave as Reiner practically dragged him out of the room at a run after yelling out a loud 'later' to the rest of us. Sasha followed them quickly muttering something about Reiner heading out to steal her locker.

Armin laughed after them and pulled his bag over his shoulder then turned to me. “I'm in class with Mikasa, Annie and Connie next period I'll text you where we're going to meet up for lunch, do you have your phone with you?” he asked me.

I patted my jeans pocket where my out of date Samsung phone was hidden and gave him a smile. “Yep.”

He nodded with a smile plastered on to his face. “Alright, I'll see you at lunch then, have fun next period Marco!” 

“Bye!”I laughed after him. Only he would be able to sincerely tell someone to have fun while they headed off to their next class. He looked over his shoulder and sent me a wave as he jogged out of the room.

I zipped my bag shut and threw it over my shoulder with an awkward arm movement almost hitting Jean who I realized was still sitting down in his seat. He was wringing his hands and biting his lip slightly, with his eyes planted on his lap. The class was almost empty now apart from a two girls talking to Erwin, I let out an exasperated sigh and tugged on the hood of his coat. He obviously didn't want my help but he had no idea where he was going since his guide had ditched him. He was way too proud to bring up my offer to let me show him where his locker was but I was going to take him anyway. Since his assigned guide was an apparent asshole, I would take up the role myself. At least for today.

I took in a long deep breath. “Jean?” I asked.

His head jerked up to my direction, his eyes wide and eyebrows shot up almost into his hairline. “Yeah, what?”

"We're going to be late for our next periods if we don't head to our lockers soon and I'm really excited for my Writer's Craft class so grab your stuff and let's go.”

He stared in sudden surprise at where I was standing for a split second before he neutralized his expression and shuffled to his feet. “Yeah, you're right.” he said with a sharp nod. He grabbed his walking stick which was leaning against his desk and swung his bag on to his back with more agility than I've ever had, even before loosing a limb.

I didn't press the conversation on further as we exited the room together. As we walked down the hall to where our class' lockers were I felt him press a small piece paper into my hand, I looked down to see the slip of paper that held his locker number. I glanced over at him but I didn't say anything. At least he was admitting to himself that he did need a little bit of help.

He was walking extremely close to me, so close that his shoulder was brushing against mine every second step we took which was the slightest bit uncomfortable. He didn't look like he wanted to discuss it though so once again, I didn't say anything. His eyebrows were knit tightly as if he was deeply focused and he cringed every time he touched someone that wasn't me as if they broke hid focus just by passing by him. I looked down at him in slight concern and noticed as I took in a deep breath to say something, that he smelt like a weird mix of smoke and chocolate.

Shaking myself out of the weird thought, I wondered if maybe I should take his sleeve but dismissed the idea after reflecting back on this morning.

I found myself wishing I actually knew what to do.

Sadly, the only answer that came to mind was 42.

His locker was at the end of the hall, almost on the corner. “Here it is.” I hummed, knocking lightly against the metal with my knuckles.

His hands fell against it and he pulled it open. “Twenty-six.” he murmured to himself.

I raised an eyebrow and looked down at him in confusion. “Sorry?”

“The locker is twenty-six steps from the classroom.” he told me in a matter of fact tone as he unzipped his bag and placed a notebook on one of his locker shelves after feeling the cover.

I nodded in understanding and looked down at my own locker number. I quickly crumpled up the piece of paper and shoved it into my back pocket. We were going to be late at our second period classes if I stopped at my locker. I decided against even bringing up the fact that I hadn't dropped off my stuff. Jean straightened out and sent a little smirk in my direction. I guessed that meant he was ready to go.

The amount of people in the hallway had gone down significantly and he seemed to be more in his element as he shut the locker and started to waltz down the hall. I jogged after him after sending a gigantic eye roll to the back of his head. “So what's your next class?” I asked him.

“Music, room 103 with Miss. Petra Ral.” he said before stopping and biting his lip. “The elevator is this way right?” he said throwing his arm out wildly to point to the right.

I groaned internally. My class was up on the third floor, I'd have to run all the way down with him to his class and then run all the way back up to get to mine. “Yeah.” I replied.

The walk to his class was pretty much uneventful except when he screamed at me for almost letting him run into a wall due to my rushing. He apologized in a mumble a couple seconds later but it was mostly my fault.

The music hall was one of my favourite places in the school. Due to not having enough space in the art wing, it was lined with paintings and photos of the trips the band spent their Christmas breaks and summers going on.

“Thanks.”

I looked back over at Jean in complete surprise. His head was hung slightly making his interesting style of hair fall gently over his vacant eyes.

I grinned. “You're welcome. So hey, you want to hang out over lunch?” I asked without thinking. I didn't know where the words came from but the words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline like they had in first period. “Uh, yeah, I would. Didn't you tell your other friend you'd hang out with them though?”

I shrugged. “It's okay, I can hang out with Armin later.” I said trying not to dwell on the fact that I was technically breaking a promise to Armin. “I can meet you here after class if you want.”

He nodded quickly and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, uh, okay.”

After a brief awkward silence, I shuffled forward to open the music room door for him. I immediately noticed Sasha sitting in the back of the room with her books balanced on her knees in the only half full room. It didn't surprise me in the least that she elected to sit in the back.

She caught my eye and sent me a confused look before standing up to meet us in the doorway. “Something wrong Marco? If I had of known you were taking music with me I could have waited!” she whined.

“Sorry,” I told her earnestly. “I'm not. You know I can't play to save my life.” I looked over at Jean who was fiddling with his walking stick. “I just told Jean I'd walk him here.” I grinned over at him and he gave Sasha nothing more of a response than a tiny nod of his head. I rolled my eyes and continued to talk. “Besides, I can count how many instruments I can actually play on my hand.”

Sasha smiled back. “Connie told me you couldn't figure out a way to play the triangle.”

I flushed. “I really couldn't. Must be because I'm left handed.” I said. Sasha let out a sputtering laugh, almost covering Jean and I in spit. Jean raised an eyebrow in confusion, not understanding the joke. I poked him lightly in the ribs after looking up at the clock on the music room wall. “I'm going to be seriously late, I'll see you two later!” I turned to run out of the room and as an after thought I yelled over my shoulder, “Sasha take care of grumpy pants for me!”

I heard Sasha laugh again and Jean start to yell something after me but I had already shut the door and started to run to the staircase that lead back up to the third floor.

It took me a minute to realize I was grinning to myself.

I decided that even though he was cranky, rude, and sort of reminded me of a cat that had been dunked in a bucket of water, I liked Jean.

* * *

I was glad I took Writer's Craft as one of my courses. It was a small class with only fifteen students and the teacher, Mike Zacharias was a lot more enthusiastic about his class than Erwin was. I decided that I thought he was okay, even he did sniff us when we left the room.

Jean and I were sitting right outside the music room, eating our lunches that we had bought in the cafe. He was telling me something and I suppose I really should have been listening but I was just so focused on actually having an excuse to look at him without him snarling at me. His face was long and full of sharp angles, just when I thought I was going to look away from him I found myself noticing the slant in his jaw line or how his mouth was slightly crooked. His eyes were light and vacant amber and good god he was pale but it wasn't like I disliked looking at him. In fact, there was something about him that made me not want to look away. To say he wasn't attractive would be an outright lie.

My eyes moved from his face to his hands which were moving around his head in crazy, animated motions as he talked to prove his point. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if he whacked himself in the face.

“-and you do realize there are triangle stands right?”

Oh right, he was telling me about how me not being able to play a triangle was dumb.

I wished for a second he had hit himself in the face.

“I did not know that.” I told him which earned me a smug smile from his dumb, attractive face.

The truth is, I wasn't sure if Jean had figured out my loss of limb yet. If he had, he hadn't brought it up. Either way, I wasn't going to bring it up. I would wait for him to ask me about it or for it to come up in conversation. I liked talking to him like I was an equal and not have him feel like he had to baby me around.

I snuck a quick glance down at my phone that was laying in my lap.

Two unread texts from Armin.

 

****From: Armin Alert** **

__We've decided to eat outside in front of the main doors._ _

 

****From: Armin Alert** **

__Oh. Sasha told me you were eating lunch with Jean. That's okay, want to invite him to sit with us tomorrow?_ _

 

I looked back up at Jean who was telling me something else about how one would play a triangle.

 

****To: Armin Alert** **

__I don't think he likes people._ _

 

A few seconds later I felt my phone vibrate in my hand.

 

****From: Armin Alert** **

__Marco, you're people and he seems to be fond of you._ _

 

I was pretty sure I had never actually seen the word 'fond' in a text message before, but it wasn't unlike Armin to break that streak. I cracked a small smile I typed another message.

 

****To: Armin Alert** **

__No, I'm a Bodt._ _

 

In a matter of milliseconds I got another text.

 

****From: Armin Alert** **

__yo marco its ymir nxt time i see u im ripping ur arm off fr tht pun_ _

 

I smiled down at my phone again. When I first met Ymir, I would have wondered if I should fear for the safety of my arm but after getting to know her I realized that even though she appears to be threatening and sometimes a little cold, she liked me enough to keep my arm intact.

 I tucked my phone into my hoodie pocket and turned my attention back to Jean. He had stopped talking and was stuffing his face with his BLT.

 “So hey,” I said leaning back slightly on my arm. “What are your next two classes?”

 He swallowed and bit the inside of his cheek, trying to remember. “I have French third and then University English fourth period.”

 “English with Pixis?” I asked.

 He nodded as he took another bite. “Yeah.” He said with a full mouth which gave me a full view of his chewed food. Yum.

 “Guess we're going to have English together then.” I said ripping off the wrapper of my granola bar with my teeth and taking a large bite of the chewy goodness.

 The ends of his lips tweaked upward the slightest bit. “What do you have third period?” He wondered out loud.

 “Advanced Biology with Hanji.” I informed him smiling widely, feeling proud of myself that I had evoked a somewhat genuine small smile from him.

 “Your classes are all over the place.” he stated which caused my smile to falter. “World Politics, Writer's Craft, Biology and English. I'm not really seeing any links there. Then again, seeing isn't my forte. Care to enlighten me on what Marco Bodt is going to do with his life with those random courses under his belt?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, you're one to talk.” I stated. “You have World Politics, Music, French and English. What are you going to be? A linguist?”

 “No, but if my accent didn't stink, that would be a good back up.”

 “Your name is French, your accent can't be that bad.”

 “Excellent deduction skills, but yes,  I'm very good at French.” he agreed proudly. “Russian on the other hand-”

 “You speak more than English and French?” I interrupted in surprise as I gnawed down on the wrapper my granola bar with my teeth.

 He puffed out his chest in sudden pride. “Besides English and French I can speak five other languages so seven in total,” he scrunched up his nose and counted on his mayo covered fingers. “German, Italian, Spanish, Russian and Dutch. I tried learning Polish but I couldn't figure it out.”

 For a second I was glad he was blind because he probably would have laughed at the surprised look that painted my face because he honestly sounded disappointed in himself that he couldn't learn an eighth language. I couldn't even conjugate avoir properly.

 “That's really impressive.” I said leaning forward, fully intrigued.

 He brushed off the compliment with a shrug and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, my family travelled a lot when I was a kid. You kind of pick it up when you're exposed to it for so long.. ” he stated biting at his lip with a brush creeping into his cheeks.

 “I'll have to get you to teach me some of the basics.” I laughed through a wide grin.

 His blush deepened. “Uh, okay, sure if you want.” He said softly as he averted his gaze to the ground. He pulled at the ends of his bangs so that they would fall over his eyes. I wondered if he was trying to hide his burning face from me.

 It didn't seem like he was used to getting compliments as openly as I was giving them.

 He played absentmindedly with the strings of his sweater and nodded quickly. Good god up in the heavens, he was really cute when he was flustered.

 I shook my head and scolded myself. No Marco, calm your homo. No hitting on the new blind kid on his first day of school.

 He shrugged again. He failed to regain his composure so instead, he changed the topic He cleared his throat and spoke loudly with a noticeable crack in his voice. “So, Marco, I was wondering if you could-”

 His words were cut off sharply by sound of the bell echoing through the hallway, signifying that lunch was over and we had to make our way back to class.

 I stood up and stretched. “Sorry, what?” I asked him as I bent over to grab my bag and the food wrappers I had tossed on the ground.

 “Nothing.” he replied, leaning against a wall of lockers. He crossed his arms across his chest and turned his face away from me. I rolled my eyes at him and picked up the garbage that he left on the floor as well.

 “Come on grumpy pants.” I muttered to him, pushing lightly against him with my right shoulder. “French classes would be on the second floor.”

 “Yes mom.” he grumbled under his breath.

 I looked back at him, fully expecting him to be scowling but instead I was surprised to see that he was smiling softly at the ground. I smirked feeling delighted and tossed our garbage in the trashcan at the end of the hallway and we walked to his next period class in a comfortable silence.

* * *

 

 “Man, English sucks.” Jean whined as we left the classroom together. “Not to mention Pixis is an ass.”

 “You're just mad because he made you sit at the front.” I laughed.

 “We're in high school!” He exclaimed throwing his arms in the air in exasperation, almost hitting a bystander in the face with his walking stick. “And he gave us assigned seats!”

 “I personally like sitting near the window.” I stated jokingly, elbowing him in the ribs.

 “Maaarcooooo.” he whined again, clutching his side as if my elbow had actually hurt him. “You don't understand my pain.”

 “You sit beside Armin, it's not that bad.”

 “I don't  _ _know__ Armin.” he groaned, once again being obnoxiously loud.

 “Then get to know him.” I retorted. “He's in our World Politics class.”

 Jean rolled his eyes. “I know that, shit canoe.”

 I raised an eyebrow. “Shit canoe?”

“Better than fucker isn't it?”

 I sighed and let it go. “You could say hi to him or something.”

 “Yeah but he doesn't talk, and when he does it's always to that guy that smells like he had a million bottles of axe dropped on his head.”

 “Reiner. His name is Reiner and he also just so happens to be in our World Politics class.” I said.

 “Yeah, whatever.” Jean stated, shrugging.

 “You're impossible.” I stated pinching the bridge between my nose.

 “Mhmm.” he hummed happily and gnawed thoughtfully on his lip, almost snagging his teeth on his lip ring in the process.

 “So hey,” I piped up as we exited the front doors of the school. “Maybe tomorrow I could-”

 “Jean!” A voice interrupted me. “Jean Kirschtein!”

 I turned around to look at who was calling for him but Jean simply let out a large and over exaggerated sigh. “Yeeeeeeeeeees Carolina?” he asked drawing out his words as long as he could in a clearly irritated voice.

 A small blonde girl who couldn't have been older than twelve, raced over to where we were standing, her neon orange backpack embraced in her arms. “Jean, I asked you to meet me near the main office.”

 Jean shrugged nonchalantly. “I forgot.” he said simply.

 The girl rolled her eyes at him and turned to me. “Hi, she greeted. “I'm Carolina Kirschtein.”

 “Marco Bodt.” I said with a smile before I turned back to face the frowning boy beside me. “Jean, is this your little sister?” I asked nudging him in the arm with my elbow.

 “Cousin.” They replied in a simultaneous deadpan.

 “I walk Jean to school,” she told me before she turned back to face him. “and I am supposed to walk him home.” she hissed through her crooked teeth.

 Jean waved her off. “I was having a conversation.” he turned his head back to face me with a fake look of genuine interest on his face. “I'm sorry Marco, what were you saying?”

 I blushed. “Oh, I was just going to ask you if maybe you wanted to come a little bit early to school tomorrow so I could properly show you around.”

 He smirked at me before giving me a light punch in the shoulder “Yeah, okay as long as you'll cover for me when I fall asleep in homeroom.”

 “I'm rolling my eyes.” I told him bluntly and he laughed an almost genuinely sounding laugh. “So just meet me here tomorrow morning okay?”

 “Yeah, alright.” he replied. Carolina yanked on his sleeve and he glared down at her. “Jesus Christ calm down.”

 Carolina stuck out her chin defiantly. When she did that she looked almost like a younger, female version of Jean. “Tante René said she wanted you home as soon school ended.”

He crossed his arms across his chest and sneered down at her with just as much frustration in his gaze and she had in hers. “Jesus fuck, give me a second and we'll go.” he growled, every muscle in his entire face and body twitching in anger.

 I waved my hand in front of my chest. “No, you should go, I'll uh see you tomorrow Jean.” I stated, shooting him a quick smile.

He sighed and looked sad for a millisecond but then he looked up and smirked at me. “Alright then, I'll see you tomorrow morning.” He paused for a second and then asked, “Do you walk home? I mean, you could walk with us if you wanted.”

 “Uh, sometimes but my mom is picking me up today,” I said. “maybe next time?”

He nodded, not looking too disappointed at me casting off his suggestion. Instead he simply held out his arm like what someone would do if escorting a date in the 1950s or some old sitcom. His cousin took it without hesitation. He threw a small, nonchalant wave over his shoulder as he began to walk away. “Later Marco.” he called.

I waved back and watched them walk away. It wasn't until they were almost completely out of sight that I started to feel a little bit guilty. Maybe I should have offered him my arm earlier, instead of grabbing for his arm. That probably would have helped him. I sighed and felt my shoulders drop. There was probably a lot of things I could have done to make today easier for him, but the bottom line was, I didn't know the ropes of being around the blind. It was just like how a lot of people didn't know the ropes of being around me, an amputee. I looked down at where my arm had been just a couple years ago and I ground my teeth.

I hated to admit it, but it annoyed me when people made assumptions about me and my disability. They didn't know me or my needs but they liked to pretend that they did to make themselves feel better about having to be around me.

Jean probably felt the same way, the only difference was he was a lot more hesitant to give up his dignity as a full functioning human being than I had been and sink down a level of being babied by the world.

He was desperate to be seen as normal.

But weren't we already normal? Wasn't I just missing my arm? Wasn't he just lacking his eyesight?

What made us so different?

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a group of at least seven freshmen girls in tiny skirts pointing over at me, being as discrete as freshmen can be. I sighed deeply and averted my eyes from their flailing limbs. I shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose tightly in a vague attempt to block them out.

Worldly visions and distinction.

 


	2. Knowing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a turn of events we meet Marco's family. Jean, Connie and Sasha are dweebs and that about sums it up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are back! Hey! I'm back too with chapter two. Sorry it took so long but I was a little busy:(  
> Anyway! Please enjoy chapter two!  
> Lots of love  
> -Khaiyo

Chapter Two

It took me approximately thirty seconds after mom picked me up from the school to realize that I absolutely sucked at making plans.

'Yeah Jean, maybe you would want to come to school a little bit early tomorrow so I could show you around but like, I'm not going to give you a time to meet me or anything, just come early and wait right here in this exact spot even though you can't even see where we are.'

Good job Marco, good job.

When I got home, I fell on the couch and buried my face in a pillow. At the moment, I felt like it would be a good idea to try to pass my failure telepathically through the pillows so they could suffer for me. After a couple minutes of this, I thought I heard mom leave the house to go pick up Alicia from grandma's but I didn't lift my head to tell her goodbye. Loathing myself for being stupid seemed to be more of a pressing matter anyway. I groaned loudly into the void of the now empty house, which more or less sounded like I was trying to do an impression of a walrus.

Jean must think I'm an idiot.

At least my impressions of sea bound animals are spot on.

My wallowing ended the front door was thrown open, slammed shut about three seconds later and a sixty-five pound child came running at me, carelessly throwing herself on my back.

I groaned loudly in pain and curled myself into the fetal position. “Off please.” I moaned pitifully into the pillow. Although with my voice being muffled, the plea sounded a little bit more like, “Ah pf pre ease”.

Alicia seemed to get the gist of my muffled request though because she clambered clumsily off my back and on to the empty couch space beside me. I groaned once more before I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame my wicked cowlick. I puffed out a breath of air and stuck out my bottom lip upon the realization that trying calm it was useless. I sighed and slowly turned my gaze back Alicia. “Hey.” I said smiling over at her. “How was your visit with Grandma?”

She sighed dramatically and threw herself back in to the couch. “It was so boring Marco!”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “It couldn't have been that bad!”

The seven year old sighed once again, even more dramatically than before. “She's so _old_ Marco, all she does is sit in front of the T.V. and guess the wrong phrases on _Wheel of Fortune._ ”

I laughed and ruffled her hair. “I bet you're excited to start school tomorrow then huh?”

School years had always started like this, because I was older, my school year started a day or so earlier than Alicia's. Because mom had to work during the day, Alicia went to spend the day at Grandma's, which she hated. In her opinion, Grandma was older than Benjamin Franklin and smelt like a tuna sandwich.

Not that I would say it out loud but her opinion wasn't far from wrong.

“Yeah, I guess.” she stated in a small voice, her confidence faltering. Just for the sake of me not being able to see her face, she pulled her pink sweater up over her head and shuffled even deeper into the couch like a turtle.

I pursed my lips slightly, I had most definitely said something wrong.

“More nervous than excited?” I asked, leaning back beside her.

She nodded slowly into her woolly sweater and sniffled quietly. “Don't tell mom. I don't want her thinking I'm a baby.”

“I won't,” I promised. “but you know though, there's nothing wrong with being nervous.” I said, tugging gently on her brown curls that were sticking out of her sweater in an attempt to comfort her. “I mean, I was so nervous this morning and I'm almost done school!” I exclaimed and waited for a reply. When she didn't answer me, not even with a mumble which she was famous for doing when she was upset, nervous or scared, I didn't know what else to say. So of course being me, I cleared my throat and said the first stupid thing that came to mind. “Maybe Dad can help.”

She poked her head out of the sweater, her frizzy hair immediately sticking to her face and levitating above her head due to all the static she had created. “Dad?” she said in awe with wide eyes.

“Yeah.” I said with a nonchalant shrug but mentally hit myself. “Want to go see?”

She nodded quickly and jumped up. I stood a lot more slowly, stretching myself out and letting her usher me upstairs to mom's room. I opened the door for the two of us and she raced passed me over to the bed and immediately plopped herself down on it. I rolled my eyes at her and made my way over to the closet instead. “Ready?” I asked her as I tugged open the white wooden doors.

I could see out of the corner of my eye that Alicia was nodding frantically and literally bouncing up and down in excitement. She clutched on to mom's pillow trying to control herself but the grin on her face wasn't faltering. She looked so happy.

My heart broke.

I guess I had forgotten how much a couple of shoe boxes hurt.

I reached up and grabbed the shoe box with her name written on it in black sharpie from the top shelf of the closet and brought it back over to the bed. She bounced once more before she reached up and snatched it from my hands before I could even sit down. With another eye roll and an extremely ungraceful movement, I plopped down on the edge of the bed and watched her carelessly throw the lid open.

Pictures, a doll, letters, the whole shebang of things I didn't want to see, filled the box to the brim.

“I'm sure mom wouldn't mind if you brought something with you tomorrow for good luck as long as you keep it safe.” I told her as I turned my gaze down at my toes upon the realization that I didn't want to look at the box anymore. In an attempt to distract myself, I slowly shifted my cold, bare feet across the hardwood floor and dug my nails into the bed sheets. This hadn't been a good idea.

“Really? Thanks Marco!” she laughed as she began to eagerly flick through the possessions in the box.

My gaze remained firmly planted on my feet as she giggled to herself and hugged his letters to her chest. I didn't want to look over and drown in what used to be happy memories. Was it normal to be upset by happy memories? I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to remember. Remembering hurt.

“Marco!” Alicia gasped, making me jump. She tugged on my sleeve excitedly, obviously having found something that had captured her interest.

I lifted my gaze to vacantly look at her. “Mhmm?” I hummed mindlessly.

“I forgot you had two arms!” she exclaimed, thrusting an old photograph directly into my face, nearly hitting my nose.

I carefully pried the picture from her chubby fingers and stared down at it. It had been almost a year since I'd last seen it. The picture of mom when she still had her beautiful, long red hair. The picture of me with _both_ of my arms wrapped around my mom. The picture of Alicia, clutching on to dad's arm with her tiny hands. _The picture of dad_.

The last picture we were all together in.

I looked away from it quickly and handed it back to her. “You say that every time you see a picture of me that's more than two years old.” I said, trying to make my voice as light and carefree as possible but I failed and it broke halfway through the sentence, just like Humpty Dumpty broke halfway through his rhyme. I clicked my tongue to the roof of my mouth, trying to brush off my voice crack and ran my hand through my hair again. “Do you want to bring that one then?”

“Yep.” Alicia agreed with a satisfied nod, not a tone of doubt in her voice.

“Alright.” I said as I reached over her so that I could shove the lid back on to the shoe box. “Time to put this back away then.”

She nodded and I stood, gripping the shoe box tightly so I wouldn't drop it. It was when I was walking back over to the closet when she spoke up again. “What's in your shoe box Marco?”

I froze for a second in mid stride and struggled to find words. “Nothing important.” I managed. “Come on,” I said after I put the box back into it's original spot. “let's go see if mom is inside yet.”

Alicia shot me a big, toothy grin, showcasing her already prominent dimples. “Okay.” She laughed and she flung herself off the bed with the photograph clutched so tightly to to her chest that I could see it beginning to bend in the middle. She looked back at me once more before she proceeded to race out of the bedroom with the energy that only someone under ten could possess.

I let out a breath of relief when I heard her feet thumping down the stairs. I don't think I had ever been as grateful as I had in that moment that seven year old kids had the attention span of goldfishes.

I made my way downstairs, following the the sound of clinking glasses in an attempt to find mom. I entered the kitchen quietly, but she heard me regardless and looked up from the sink sending me a tired smile. “Hey sweetheart.” she greeted, setting down the glass she had been washing so she could turn and face me properly.

“Hey.” I said as I leaned against the door frame that lead into the kitchen. “Is Grandma okay?” I asked.

Mom nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, and she told me to say hello to you.” Mom paused for a second, looking back down at the dishes before looking back at me. “Alicia is rather ecstatic that you told her she could bring that photo to school tomorrow.” she told me softly.

I pinched the bridge of my nose tightly and sighed. “She already told you? Jeez, I'm sorry, I know I should have asked you before going into your room and bringing out the boxes.”

For a moment I thought mom was going to scold me, like she should have but instead she shrugged and gave me a small smile. “It's alright Marco, you made her happy, that's all that matters. It's what older brothers are for.”

And just like that I was off the hook. Just by the tired look on her face, I could see that she wasn't happy. I mean, I had went into her room without permission but she was trying to hide her disappointed with the whole 'that's what brothers do' excuse to comfort me about my mistake. God, I hated this. Why did she treat me like a child who couldn't handle facing the consequences of the mistakes they made? Why couldn't she just get angry with me once and a while?

I honestly think I could commit murder in front of her and she would still give me a gold star and a mug of lukewarm tea.

I faltered in returning the smile. “Yeah, I guess you're right,” I lied as I looked around the kitchen, my eyes finding there way to the giant cat clock that was hanging on the wall. 5:00. My stomach rumbled almost on queue. “Do you want some help getting dinner ready mom?” I asked her, shuffling myself off of the wall into a fully upright position so I could stand directly in front of her.

“Marco, it's very sweet of you to offer but no thank you. Why don't you go upstairs and work on.. what was it again honey?”

I sighed and looked down at my still frozen bare feet. I made sure I didn't make any eye contact with her because the last thing I wanted was her to see how upset and frustrated this made me. “Writing mom, I'm working on a-” I started mumbling but before I could finish she clapped her hands together eagerly, cutting me off abruptly.

“Right yes, that's right. So, why don't you go upstairs and work on that while I finish making dinner okay?” She told me rather than asked and proceeded to place her hands on my back and push me out of the kitchen so fast that I stumbled over the carpet leading into the next room over.

I let out a long deep sigh as I walked back to the staircase with mom close on my heels. I dug my hand into my pocket, trying to hide the sight of my fist. Resisting the urge to sigh, I slouched my shoulders forward and closed my eyes tightly. I wanted to trip over the staircase and just fall over and lay there for the rest of the night. Deciding that it would probably break my nose if I did that though, I opened my eyes and just averted them. I walked up three steps before I stopped and looked back over my shoulder, making eye contact for the first time in a couple minutes, “Okay, well you'll call me down if you need any help, right?” I asked her.

 _Smile._ I mentally scolded myself. _She won't think anything is wrong if you smile._

And so with the main course of my question, I gave her a side dish of a fake award winning Marco smile and unsurprisingly, she bought it. And for full price too.

She didn't think I could do anything.

God, who could blame her. Who wants a broken son?

I trudged my way up the stairs and entered my room in complete silence. I stepped quietly inside the small, bright room and quickly shut the door behind me. After a millisecond of standing there with my head bowed and palms pressed tightly on the door. I let out a cross between a sigh and a moan before making way over to my desk to crack open my laptop. After I typed in my password and waited for it to boot up, I looked around my room, mostly to double check that I had actually closed the door but a little bit of the glance was to take in the scenery or make sure I hadn't entered the Matrix or Narnia. I don't know. Looking around familiar surroundings expecting something new is weird.

The bright yellow and blue painted walls that usually tend to make me happy when I look at them due to their vibrancy, were now just giving me a headache and made me semi want to punch myself in the face. I buried my face in my hand and shut my eyes tightly, willing the colours to go away with every fibre of my body. I didn't need this right now.

My browser opened with a soft ping and I lifted my head slightly to now glance at the screen. I straightened myself out in the chair, tapped my fingers against the wood of the desk once for good measure and opened the text document I was working on.

And then I sat there.

And sat there.

And sat there.

And eventually after fifteen minutes of just sitting there, I opened YouTube and Facebook.

Writing is hard, okay?

I shoved my headphones into my ears which was rather awkward because I had to put them in one at a time but since no one was watching I guess I could be as awkward as I wanted. I rolled my eyes at myself and clicked on the first _My Chemical Romance_ song that popped up in my recommended videos, which of course happened to be _Welcome to the Black Parade._ With a flat laugh, not finding it all that amusing, but rather ironic, I switched over to my Facebook tab and started to scroll mindlessly through my news feed.

Sasha had posted a bunch of pictures of her lunch, which she had probably posted on her Instagram and Tumblr as well but I ended up liking them anyway, Krista had re-posted a link to donate money for sick puppies which Ymir had shared on to her page, probably because she thought Krista would think it was hot, Reiner had posted a status asking if he should join the football team to which Bertholdt had agreed with a lot more enthusiasm than I would have expected and Eren was angrily ranting about how much he hated his third period French class. I raised an eyebrow slightly, I guess he had French with Jean.

Ohh yes Jean. New Boy/ Hottie McHot Pants.

Noticing that I was making him sound like a McDonald's combo, I desperately tried to change my train of thought, though with my luck, my thoughts lead straight back to him.

Did he have Facebook? Could he use Facebook?

I quickly filed all of the things I had said to myself in the last minute in a half in my brain as 'Things Never To Say Out Loud Ever' but I still cringed into myself for not knowing the answer to my stupid question. It wouldn't hurt to look him up right? Brushing off that this may be a little creepy, I moved my cursor over to the search bar and paused, my hand hovering over the keys.

How the heck do you spell Kirschtein?

I punched J E A N into the search bar, just kind of hoping he would pop up and I could click on his profile and get this creepy stalking thing over and done with. You know after I found out what kind of movies he liked to watch on Netflix and if he liked _The Mountain Goats_ or _Pink Floyd_.

Sadly, I had no such luck and was destined to sit there and try to spell his last name.

 _Kirsteen._ No. _Kirstain._ Nope. _Kirshtein._ No results found. _Kirstein._ Again, no. Exhaling a frustrated sigh I jabbed the keys with my fingers and typed, _KirsFINE._

Yeah, I pretty much gave up as soon as mom called me down for dinner.

I guess I'd have to find out if he liked _Pink Floyd_ like a normal person would, you know with that thing that people call human interaction.

Why couldn't the norm for human socialization in today's society just be an occasional text message?

 

* * *

 

 

I somehow manged to convince mom to drive me a half an hour early to school the next morning. I'm not exactly sure how I did it because mom hated leaving the house any time before 8 a.m. but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with my unmade bed, full laundry basket and a subtle mention of a sex dungeon in a LARPing game Connie had told me about which I had accidentally brought up over breakfast. So, when I asked her if we could leave early so I could meet up with a friend, she was practically pushing me out of the house, which I guess worked out in my favour.

I don't know how he did it but Jean had somehow managed to to get to school before I did but there he was, tugging at one of the piercings that hung on his right ear.

I quickly unclasped my seat belt, waved a small goodbye at mom and tripped over myself as I tried to hastily get out of the car to make my way over to Jean. Upon opening the car door, I sucked in a long breath of cool air, making my lungs feel like they had been painted over in a thick coating of mint. I took in another breath. I didn't particularly love the crisp, minty feeling that the air was caking my lungs with but I did enjoy the buzz of encouragement and adrenaline it was giving to my system. It made me feel alive. I pulled my lips into a soft smile and made my way across the courtyard toward Jean.

He was leaning against the brick wall like a freaking shoujo anime protagonist, hands laced behind his head, eyes closed and headphones rammed into his ears. I swear, if it hadn't of been for his huge, black BEEN TO HELL jacket, I'm sure he would have been freezing his skinny-jeaned butt off.

I stopped walking to him a meter or so away from him. With his music on, I wondered if he could hear me and if he couldn't, how I was going to get his attention. After a couple seconds of contemplating this, I hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder but when my hand was about three centimetres away from his shoulder, he smirked and reached up to take his headphones out, pushing my hand away with the back of his hand in the process. “Good morning to you too Marco.” he said as opened his eyes and proceeded to push his headphones into his jacket pocket.

“J-Jean!” I exclaimed and yanked my hand back to my side like it had been bitten by some kind of wild animal, blood pumping into my cheeks. “H-how.. How did you... I mean, yeah! Good morning!”

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, raising his eyebrow and letting another smug smirk paint his dumb face.

My face felt like it was on a timer linked to a bomb that was ready to go ahead and explode. “I-I-I'm sorry, I thought you couldn't hear me.”

Jean waved me off and tugged on his earlobe. “My music wasn't on.”

“Oh, sorry,” I smiled a little. “I guess I just assumed that it was.”

He shrugged. “People tend to stray away from the blind kid when he's lost his hearing too. I think they feel like they're trying to catch the attention of rock so in the long run it's a good get the fuck away from me method.”

“You don't like people much, do you?” I asked him.

“No, but for the record they don't tend to like me that much either.” he answered. He raised his hand from his side again and pointed his thumb at the school doors. “So the tour of hell is this way then?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He reached over and picked up his walking stick that was leaning against brick wall beside him and swung his upper body forward to regain an upright stance. “Right then, shall we go?” he asked as he stretched his arms above his head, his jacket just lifting up enough for me to catch a glimpse of his lower stomach.

Holy God Almighty, those hip bones were glorious.

Obviously staring, the only thought that was coming into my mind was that one quote from Monty Python and the Holy Grail about blowing up thine enemies with a holy hand grenade. More or less because the thoughts that were flowing in my mind made me want to blow up my brain with dynamite.

“Hey, uh Marco, you didn't walk away on me, did you?” he wondered shakily, slowly bring his arms back to his sides, hiding his skin once again.

I came crashing back into reality and snapped my eyes back up to his face. “No, no sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

He looked relieved. “Alrighty then, let's get this party started.”

Without a response from me and a quick nod of his head, he began to walk toward the doors. Judging by the pace he was walking at and the certainty of his steps, he didn't seem to have any doubt what so ever that I wouldn't rush forward and open the door for him three seconds before his face made impact with the glass and of course he was right.

“Hey Jean?” I asked hesitantly after he tripped slightly over a pencil that had been left on the floor as we walked down the first floor corridor.

I watched him swing the elevator key around his finger mindlessly, trying to brush off his slip up like it was nothing. “Mhmm?” he hummed irritatedly.

“Do you,” I paused trying to push the question off of my lips. “do you want to hold my arm?”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, in which I guess he was contemplating his dignity but he nodded slightly. “Yeah, that would help.”

I raised my arm for him and he took it gratefully. He flushed slightly and averted his face from mine. “Thank you.” he mumbled.

I shrugged. “No problem.”

We dropped the topic and continued to walk down the hallway. I showed him where the gym was and explained that it coexisted with the cafeteria, I lead him down all the different art wings and described my favourite painting to him that was hanging in drama hall. I took him to where all of his classes were going to be again so he had a vague idea for the day ahead and I made sure to show him where my Writer's Craft and Biology classes were in case he needed me for anything. The end of our grand tour ended when we found ourselves in the library. It was then I found out that Jean loved books as much as I did. Even though Trost High hardly had any books in braille, I could see the slightest change in his expression the second we were hit by overwhelming book smell upon entering the huge room. Instead of looking extremely pissed, he actually looked the tiniest bit excited. We walked around the library for about ten minutes with him asking me all sorts of questions about the books and after a while of just watching him, I found myself smiling so much that my cheeks were starting to hurt.

The bell for homeroom sounded and Jean groaned loudly which earned him a shush from the librarian, Mr. Bozado. In a moment of true, teenage rebellion, Jean narrowed his eyes and shushed him back under his breath as we passed by the desk where he was sitting on our way out. I stifled a small laugh at the sour look Bozado gave Jean and nudged him softly in the side with my elbow. Jean grinned smugly, way too pleased with himself and elbowed me back.

After a quick elevator ride up a floor and a pit stop at our lockers, we made our way to World Politics.

I think Erwin was genuinely surprised to see that after our late feat yesterday, Jean and I were the first two people to walk arm in arm into his classroom, quietly laughing to each other. He greeted us with a slight head nod and a quirked eyebrow that ended up skyrocketing into his hairline due to it's massive size before he turned back to the papers he had been reading before we had come in.

We walked to the back of the classroom and sat at our desks, tossing our backpacks on the ground beside our seats. It wasn't long before everyone else came rushing in, well everyone except Reiner. Bertholdt was quick to tell me Reiner had texted him saying that he had slept in after watching too many episodes of _Say Yes To The Dress_ last night and was coming to school for second period.

I sighed along with Armin, Jean on the other hand just seemed overly confused as to why someone like Reiner had been watching _Say Yes To The Dress_ of all things.

I really didn't know either, Reiner's taste in T.V. was weird and every single one of his friends agreed on that. Except Bertholdt. Bertholdt thought it was cute. They often told me stories about the 80's chick flicks they would watch together that literally no one but Reiner had heard of. Most of the time I ended up tuning out these particular stories because they often tended to end with a bang of some sort.

The PA came on telling us to rise for the anthem. I guess Jean stood a little too quickly because he ended up tripping on the leg of his chair. I caught his arm and lightly laced my fingers around his lower arm and helped him stand upright again, even though that did require me having to reach awkwardly over myself to do it. Jean regained his balance and tilted his face upward to send me a small grin before he turned his attention back to the anthem and shook his arm loose of my hand nonchalantly.

I flushed slightly and looked down at my hand. He was so warm.

As we sat back in our seats, a stream of announcements came gushing out of the PA but I couldn't focus on listening to them what so ever because I had just noticed out of the corner of my eye what Jean was wearing. He wore a red flannel plaid shirt that was just the slightest bit tight on his upper arms on top of a red shirt that was just a few shades lighter than the red on the flannel which read “Almost Handsome” in big, black letters across the chest.

Jean sat there silently in his own little world, completely unaware of me staring him down with his chin resting on his palm and his bottom lip puffed out in a disinterested pout.

The flannel plus the dorky shirt plus the skinny jeans and combat boots definitely didn't make his body temperature the only thing that was hot.

I was brought back into reality when Erwin stood up from behind his desk to stand in front of the class. He cleared his throat and began a lecture about different kinds of government systems that lasted for the next eighty minutes. It would have been interesting to listen to had Levi not decided to drop by and chew Erwin out for a dirty coffee mug he had left in the staff room that morning and then decide to stay and listen to the rest of Erwin's lesson since he had no students seeking his guidance first period. Even just having him having sitting in the back of the class with us wouldn't have been too bad but he insisted on interrupting Erwin every two and a half minutes to correct him on a grammatical mistake he had found in the PowerPoint or to tell him very blatantly that his fly was down.

I had never really understood why Levi even worked at the school or why he had chosen a guidance counsellor of all jobs. He didn't really seem to like kids so that ruled that out, the income of a school guidance counsellor couldn't be much more than that of a teacher, which isn't too much and it wasn't like he wanted a title of authority over today's youth because he didn't want to be called Mr. Ackerman, in fact he was on a first name basis with ninety-nine percent of the student population. So, pretty much everyone that wasn't Eren. None of us were entirely sure if Levi calling Eren “Jaeger” was because Levi hated Eren with a fiery passion or if Eren was the only student Levi actually genuinely liked and had some respect for.

It didn't really surprise me he didn't have anything better to do than to come and interrupt Erwin during a lesson. Most of the time during class periods Levi just walked around the halls, threatening students to pick up their garbage and hoping someone would seek out his guidance.

No one ever did though. Probably because Levi completely sucked at his job.

After I had come back to school after my cancer rehab, my mom had told me that over my lunch period at least once a week I should go and speak to a counsellor. Initially, it sounded like a pretty okay plan, you know until I actually got my appointment. I spent all of lunch talking about my chemo therapy and how I was coping at loosing my prominent arm and Levi had just sat there in complete silence, making the conversation one hundred percent rely on me. Not to mention, when we reached the end of the session, Levi had set his notebook down, looked me dead in the eye, sighed and simply told me I had some big ass problems and promptly ended our meeting.

I guess he didn't completely suck at his job, he just had a very Levi attitude about him when he was doing it.

After class ended, Sasha decided that since she was headed down to the exact same place as we were anyway, she should walk down to their music class with us. Jean had shrugged when she had asked -no insisted- so I took that as a sign that he was okay with it and just like that we commenced our perilous journey to the music room.

I didn't talk on the way down to the music room. It wasn't like I didn't have anything to say because I did. Goddamn it, I wanted to talk to Jean as much as I could but nothing I could have said would have really fit in at that moment. Every fibre of my being was so focused on the warmth of Jean's hand on my arm and the animated conversation Sasha and him were having in a music based language that I didn't quite understand. But I did understand it was lovely, just like a butterfly realizing it can fly for the first time.

Watching people talk about things they're passionate about is beautiful, the way their nose scrunches up and their lips twitch into a smile that eventually turns into a full blown grin and the way their eyes soften but at the same time light up like fireworks. It's like staring at the sun without sunglasses on and wondering why your eyes start to burn.

I said goodbye to Jean and Sasha after we arrived and headed back upstairs to my Writer's Craft class. Mr. Zacharias gave us our first prompt of the year. It was nothing big, just a small, two hundred word descriptive piece on an object of our choice which didn't seem to be too hard. Krista seemed to be excited about it though.

I spent the rest of the class thinking about the prompt. It was such a vague writing topic that it left me completely clueless as to what I was actually going to write about. I sighed and glanced around the room to look over at Ymir and Krista who sat a couple desk rows away from Eren and I. Not much to my surprise, Ymir was mindlessly poking Krista with the eraser of her pencil while Krista was busy ignoring her bored girlfriend and filling her notebook with ideas.

I glanced over to Eren who was also hunched over his notebook, filling the lines up with words. I caught a few lines with my gaze and realized that he was describing the notebook he was writing in as he wrote in it. That was actually really clever. He looked over at me and I gave him a thumbs up. Level four for you Eren Jaeger, you go Eren Jaeger.

A couple minutes before class ended I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Looking up from my paper to make sure that Zacharias wasn't watching me, I carefully slid my phone out to check the text.

 

**From: Your Brausfriend**

 

_jst so u know connie and me are eating with you and ur new blind bestie_

 

I raised an eyebrow and sent Sasha a message back.

 

**To: Your Brausfriend**

 

_Jean is okay with that?_

 

I waited for a minute and then typed her another quick message.

 

**To: Your Brausfriend**

 

_Also when did you change your name in my phone to that?_

 

Her reply came a couple seconds later.

 

**From: Your Brausfriend**

 

_couple weeks ago. shows how much u text me bodt. also yea hes down with it_

 

**To: Your Brausfriend**

 

_Okay_

 

I was so totally not struck with jealousy over the fact that I didn't get to spend time alone with Jean today. Nope. Not me.

 

* * *

 

Lunch rolled around and I had somehow ended up cross legged on the hard ceramic floor in front of the room, stuck in a sea of junk food rappers and in the middle a very heated debate between Jean and Sasha about which musical family had the most importance to the world today. Knowing Sasha as long as I had, I should have known that she would pick the Woodwind family since she had played the clarinet since she was nine but Jean obviously did not share her thought process. He thought the String family was the backbone of musical society.

Over lunch, I had found out that in music class, Jean played the piano but he could also play the violin and guitar.

To be honest, I was kind of glad they were having this argument because knowing these facts was simply doubling his attractiveness.

The argument died down after a while when I think they both realized that arguing with each other was like trying to push your way through a brick wall and that with only fifteen minutes left of lunch they still had half of their food left.

“Hey Jean?” Sasha asked with her mouth full of her last bit of burrito.

“Yeah?” He replied as he picked a potato chip out of the bag laying on his lap and squashed it in his hand dramatically.

“Are you going to eat that?” she enquired pointing at the chip bag.

Jean stared at her blankly. “I am afraid you're going to have to be more specific than that,” he replied. “for all I know you could be pointing at my dick right now and though I have no intention of eating it, I really wouldn't want you to eat it either.”

It was that exact moment that Sasha and Connie realized that Jean was a sassy little shit.

They both stared at him for a second and before I realized it, Connie was clutching his stomach wheezing with laughter and Sasha was as red as the bag of potato chips she had wanted. It took me a couple seconds before I noticed that I had started to laugh too and was clutching Jean's arm for support. Jean himself didn't laugh but god, he looked pleased with everybody's reaction.

“Marco?” Jean said when Connie's laughter started to die down.

“Mhmm?” I asked letting go of his arm and tilting my head up to smile at him.

“Do you want the rest of my chips?”

Sasha let out a flabbergasted noise as I grinned and took the bag out of his outstretched hand. “Thank you Jean.”

“Rude.” Sasha stated as she crossed her arms across her chest, acting offended before she eyed the bag in my lap once more and lunged for me.

I let out a loud squeak as Sasha and I tumbled to the floor and knocked Connie over in the process. I wriggled around in protest but Connie easily grabbed the bag with Sasha pinning me down. Sasha leaned over so her lips were right beside my ear with her slightly greasy brown hair landing on my cheek. “Hey Marco?” she asked in a soft and somewhat suggestive whisper.

“Yeah?” I asked as I tried to pry her off.

“You know when we were kids and we slept over at Connie's house and you ended up kicking Connie in the face because I tickled you?”

It took me a minute to remember but the memory came crashing back and I nodded timidly, wondering why she was bringing that up now. “...Yeah...”

She grinned wickedly. “Are you still ticklish?”

“No!” I exclaimed loudly but it was too late. Sasha was digging her fingers into my sides and I couldn't contain the laughter that was starting to tumble out of my mouth. The limbs I had were flailing and my laughter echoed loudly down the hallway mixing with Sasha's and Connie's. I caught a glimpse of Jean as I was wriggling around and he looked _so_ confused.

“I have no idea what's going on,” Jean stated to no one in particular with a raised eyebrow. “but I am praying to God that it is not the start of an orgy.”

We laughed so loud that Miss. Ral had to come out of her classroom and politely ask us to make our way up to our third period classes.

“You're alright bro.” Connie said punching Jean lightly on the shoulder, earning him a small, but meaningless scowl. Connie shrugged it off and sent me a wink as he snuck up behind Sasha who was picking up her wrappers from the ground. With the kind of silence he could only posses when he slid in ninja mode to steal food, he yanked a chocolate bar out of the pocket of her bag and went running down the hall with it.

Sasha yelled after him like she had been physically wounded and dropped her wrappers to the ground again and took off right after him as she screamed bloody murder.

I smiled after them and bent over to pick up the garbage again. Yeah, this was actually kind of nice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did ya like it? I'll be back soon with chapter three I promise!  
> Okay so you guys are completely awesome! I did not think I would get that many kudos on one chapter alone!  
> Comments, Kudos, Bookmarks, Subscriptions, they make me want to keep writing this so thank you all so much!  
> I will now be tracking "fic: just out of reach" and "khaiyo" on tumblr so if you have anything you want me to see I'll try and find it ^-^  
> Again, if you want to follow me on tumblr you can find me at http://makohar-eau.tumblr.com/  
> Thank you guys so much  
> -Khaiyo


	3. Fighting You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean sets off on a mission and Marco reluctantly agrees to help him out.  
> It doesn't end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry, I meant to post this chapter like a week ago but I didn't have time to edit it until now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it regardless!  
> Warning : Panic attacks do happen in this chapter

Chapter three.

It seemed that as quickly as I had decided that I liked Jean Kirschtein, he had decided, if not quicker, that he liked me too.

Platonic liking though. Bros. Not like, dick in the butt liking. #no homo. Bros before homos.

Jesus Christ, being in the closet sucks when you have a very single and very datable hot, new friend.

Granted, said friend is a dickknob most of the time but I guess that doesn't make him any less single.

Also, on a totally unrelated note, probably straight.

Anyway, for someone that looked like they had lost their eyesight mouthing off someone dangerous, Jean was in reality quite clingy. Not that that was a bad thing, I mean he wasn't a possessive clingy but he was definitely clingy enough to make me question what his friend situation had been like at the last school he had been to. He was making a very conscious effort to be nice to the people he acquainted himself with at school but in a very Jean like way. He tried hard to be nice to Connie, Sasha and I, although that usually ended with him accidentally being rude and then giving a half-assed apology which was mixed with a few swears.

Jean was Jean, nice wasn't really the first thing on a list of his personality traits.

I didn't mind though, I thought it was kind of cute.

Actually, this statement by default brings us to a problem I've had for a little while now.

It seems that if you're gay and you accidentally befriend someone who's hot, can play musical instruments and swears fluently in languages you don't understand, actually likes hanging out with you because he can't see how much of a complete dork you are due to his lack of eyesight, scientific research states that you might accidentally start to develop a crush on them.

But like, no intended homo, I swear.

Jeez, who am I fooling? There was nothing not homo or actually platonic about this situation.

As for him being clingy though, I was the only person out of the couple friends that he made a point to constantly hang out with. I didn't mind, Jean seemed to actually like having me around. In fact, I would soon come to realize that he had become a very poignant part of my school life. He was always there beside me, doing his own dorky thing, being followed by the strong aroma of smoke and chocolate that he constantly carried around with him.

It had been two and a half weeks and Jean still wasn't quite sure if he wanted or was ready to eat lunch with the somewhat large group of friends Sasha, Connie and I had. So, when Avatar Aang and the Potato Descendant decided they missed Reiner's constant banter about 80's movies and Eren declaring war on any student who looked at him wrong, Jean and I would still eat outside the music classroom alone and just talk.

We talked a lot when Connie and Sasha were there too don't get me wrong, sometimes Jean, Sasha and Connie would talk until my ears were ringing but when they were there you could almost see the strain Jean put on himself to say the right things.

I would very much like to say that Jean and my conversations were so much different when we were alone but they weren't really. We talked about the same things we would have if Connie and Sasha had of been there and we still sat cross legged beside each other on the ceramic floor with our backs pressed against the grossly coloured green lockers with his shoulder gently touching mine. It wasn't different at all.

Though I shouldn't lie because truthfully, I would have liked to think that there was some kind of difference when we talked, maybe the slightest ease to maintain a conversation or the slightest bit of openness between us.

As much as I would of liked to believe that Jean and I had immediately hit it off and sparks had flew between us the first time we had hung out and then right after we had formed a secret club that only the two of us knew about, quite frankly, we didn't. And honestly if we had, that wouldn't have been healthy for either of us. Pure infatuation with the first person you meet is not a good thing no matter how nice or hot they are in your opinion. You need to experiment your relationships with lots of different people. Jean and I were still in that awkward stage of friendship where we were still getting to know each other and see what kind of ground our potential friendship would stand on. He was starting to branch off in class to meet new people too which was good, he had even started to befriend Armin and Reiner. He was getting to know people and that was a good thing.

That said, as healthy as it was for him to be getting to know new people, it was also perfectly healthy for me to be the slightest bit jealous of him -since he was my crush and all- wanting to branch off a bit from me and meet new people. I obviously wanted him to have friends but I just didn't want him to meet someone he though was cooler than me and then be forgotten.

Call it a self confidence issue because it was evident that even though through my tiny bit of jealousy, Jean had no intention of ditching the friendship we had started. He liked me and I liked him. We were going to stick together. But that said, there was one constant variable making me feel guilty when we hung out.

Earlier this week, Jean had told me it was nice meeting someone who treated him like he was more than his lack of eyesight. This should have been taken as a compliment but the way I saw it was that he had never brought up my limb count and I hadn't told him about it either. So, as far as I knew, he still thought of me as someone who was an able bodied individual treating him like he was also an able bodied individual.

We didn't have that much in common, but hanging out with him was fun and I didn't want to wreck that by telling him the only reason I understood him was because I was in the same boat.

* * *

 

I sighed and tapped my foot impatiently against the elevator floor. The small space felt extra cramped this morning which was new because it was already freakishly small. With every passing thought I had about confessing to Jean about my arm, the walls seemed to shrink around me. The ride upstairs to World Politics was taking especially long this morning with Jean being freakishly quiet, the only real reminder I had that he was actually in the small metal box with me was his warm hand grasping my arm firmly.

“Everything okay?” I asked, craning my neck at an almost unnatural angle to look at him directly.

He didn't say anything right away, and I really hadn't expected him to so I fell silent and watched him chew thoughtfully on his lip, his teeth catching on his lip piercing for a brief moment. After his continuous silence though, I tipped my head upward to gaze at the whitish beige ceiling and sighed softly. Something was definitely up, he was usually so opinionated.

The door dinged and I could visibly see his grasp on his walking stick tighten to the point that his knuckles were turning white. It took him a minute but after we walked a couple of steps off of the elevator he spoke up, “Yeah, I was just thinking I guess.”

“About what?” I asked, shifting my right shoulder awkwardly to adjust my bag.

He turned his head to face my face and lowered his voice into an intimidating deadpan. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to breathe a word of it to Connie or Sasha or I will cut you.”

I raised my eyebrows, unamused. The threat was childish, completely devoid of meaning and somewhat reminded me of a threat Alicia would have given me. I debated telling him that his threats were worse than a child's but chose to humour him instead. “Yeah okay, I promise I won't tell.” I told him as I lifted my pinky idly, hoping he would feel the muscles in my arm twitch in such a way that he would understand the small gesture.

He nodded quickly and turned away from me again. “Okay so, to be honest I was just wondering if Connie and Sasha were a thing.”

“A thing?” I echoed dryly.

“Yeah. You know, dating.”

I rolled my eyes. Wait to let me actually believe he had a serious problem that he was dwelling upon. “I don't even want to know what brought this on Jean.”

Despite the cantankerous tone in my voice, Jean persisted without hesitation. “Dude, are they?”

I felt my stomach knot. “What's with this sudden interest? Do you secretly have a thing for one of them?”

“Don't be an idiot.” he scoffed. “Come on, I'm blind and I see that they're into each other. All I want to know is if they are dating or if they're not.” He exclaimed under his breath.

“I don't think they are. I mean the last time I checked they weren't.” I said humouring him again. “But really, I honestly didn't take you for the shipping type Jean. I may have completely misjudged your character.”

He took a swing at my shins with his walking stick. “Oh shut it.” he paused for a split second. “The Trost fair is tomorrow night.”

“Yes, but I don't know what that has to do with Connie and Sasha,” I paused. “or their relationship.”

He looked over at me like I was dense. “Connie and Sasha are going. They told me they go every year as an annual tradition and that you used to go with them. Sasha invited me yesterday and I don't want to go alone with them so I'm taking you with me. While we're there we are going to set them up.”

“Jean as much as I want to be Sasha's wingman and help your ships sail, I don't like the Trost Fair.”

If it had of been anything else Jean had asked me to do, I had no doubt in my mind that I would have agreed to help him but this was the fair we were talking about. The last time I had gone to it was right before my surgery and as much as I used to love going, there was just going to be so many people there that would be watching and judging the two of us.

“Marco, come on.”

I struggled to voice my feelings. “Jean, I haven't been to the fair in years. There are so many people there and I-”

He cut me off in a low plead. “Marco, please.”

I actually stopped walking, letting the girl behind me who seemed to be carrying every single book she owned in her arms, walk right into us. Even after knowing each other for a few weeks now, Jean still hated to ask me for flavors, so I'm really sorry for stopping right in the middle of the hallway random girl I think I have biology with but I may be a little shell shocked okay?

Seeming to have read my mind, the girl glared at us as she regained her balance and pushed passed us with her nose high in the air. “This is important to you for some reason, isn't it?” I questioned Jean, as I sent the girl's back a sympathetic look.

Jean rolled his eyes at me as he pulled me forward and nodded. “Yeah.”

I let him pull me along for a few steps before I decided to pry against my better judgement, “Why?”

He didn't dodge the question like I initially thought he would. “It annoys me.” He stated bluntly.

The dumb sound came out of my mouth before I could stop it, “Huh?”

He again, surprised me without avoiding my question and answering it dead on. “That they like each other and they're wasting time that they could be spending together by avoiding their feelings. I mean, whenever one of them isn't around, they are the only thing that the the other talks about besides food. We aren't going to be this young forever. Don't you find that exasperating?”

“Not really, I think people should do things on their own terms, in their own time.” I answered.

I expected him to scoff at my wise ass reply but instead his expression just turned even more pleading. “Can you please do this with me Marco? I have a plan and everything.” his voice lowered the slightest bit, “I can't do this without you.”

Despite being uncomfortable, as I knew he was in crowds, he was determined to help his two friends because for his own inexpiable reasons, he deemed it important. He was more than willing to step out of his comfort zone for the people he cared about.

The realization hit me like a pile of bricks. He tried so hard to act distant and douchey but he was really did care a lot about the people he associated himself with. Even if he didn't quite realize it, Jean Kirschtein was a good person. I almost laughed out loud, I guess I was more dense than I thought.

I sighed instead of laughing though. I let out what felt like all of the air from my lungs. One thing was for sure, he sure as hell was braver than I was but I guess now was my turn to surprise him.

Through my own unease of being nervous to help him, I smiled at him. “You are actually such a derp nugget Jean.” I teased gently, bumping him with my shoulder lightly. “Of course I'll help you out.”

The look of distress in his face vanished and was immediately replaced by an excited smile. “God, you're awesome,” he praised, almost bouncing as he walked now with his smile excitingly twitching at the corners of his mouth.“thanks man.”

Seeing him this happy made my heart stammer quickly against my rib cage. It was like my blood pump was trying to erupt from my chest. I didn't know why he was so set in setting Connie and Sasha up, or why it was important to him at all but I could see as clear as day that I had genuinely made him happy by agreeing to help him in his schemes and as it turned out, happy Jean was in fact, extremely cute. “Y-yeah no problem,” I stammered with an embarrassed laugh, my face heating up. “no big deal.”

Jean fell silent and narrowed his eyes.“Derp nugget.” he mused. “What the hell is a derp nugget?”

I shrugged, another laugh falling off my lips. “Beats me, I'm still trying to figure out what a shit canoe is.”

 

* * *

 

 

Apparently, Erwin was the kind of teacher that loved to give students homework on weekends. Almost as quickly as Jean had told Sasha I would be accompanying the three of them to the fair, which was like a millisecond after we got to class, Erwin was handing out an assignment.

It was simple enough, Erwin assigned us a country and we had to write a small paper on the politics on said country. To be honest, I guess it technically didn't have to be done over the weekend either because it was due next Wednesday but as soon as I had informed Jean that we could do the assignment in groups, he automatically nominated me into his group and told me I could come to his house on Saturday, the day after the fair to work on it with him. Which, yes, after I got his address, I had agreed to. I mean, who in their right mind would turn down spending a day at their crush's house even if it was to work on a project?

The country that Erwin assigned to Jean and I was India. Of course, neither of us actually knew anything about India other than it's geographical location, so I figured that we were off to a great start.

Jean wasn't worried, but I had an inkling that he was the kind of person who left everything until last minute, which worried me but if I had learned anything from Jean it was that I should probably just roll with it, so against my own beliefs, I did.

 

* * *

 

 

We spent the next thirty-six hours blowing off our World Religions project and homework from our other classes so I could listen to Jean talk about the fair. Jean didn't actually tell me the plan, he told me he would tell me what we were going to do when we got there, but he seemed to be happy that we were all going together, that I didn't really mind he was keeping it a secret. To be honest, he was too busy being excited, that he couldn't keep up his cranky attitude. I wondered how long happy Jean would last.

Jean and I walked outside after the final bell rang on Friday to where we usually waited for his cousin to pick him up but after several minutes, the crowd of students coming out of the building was coming to a stop and we were still waiting.

Jean didn't say anything, he just stood beside me with a semi worried, semi annoyed look painted on his face and his hand squeezing my arm in unease.

“It's a little chilly out here,” I said gently after a few minutes of silence, making him jump slightly at the sound of my voice erupting against the quiet air. “Do you want to go wait inside?”

“Nah,” he replied tilting his face toward the ground so that I couldn't see him clearly. “I can wait, but hey what time do you usually get picked up at?”

“Like, three or three thirty on Friday's because my mom works late and has to pick up my sister right after her shift ends.” I hummed lightly, swinging back and fourth on the balls of my feet.

“I didn't know you stayed that late.” he said.

“Doesn't really matter, I don't mind since it's only Friday's that I stay so late.” I replied smiling over at him. “I guess I could walk home but it's kind of nice to be picked-”

A blaring, foreign noise filled the air between us, making us both jump out of our skins. Jean quickly removed his hand off of my arm and dug his hand into his coat pocket to pull out what looked like his cell phone. “Sorry.” he mumbled to me as his chilled fingers fumbled over the white braille buttons until he found what seemed to be the answer button. “I'll just be a sec.” He told me as he clicked the button quickly.

The conversation was over almost as quickly as it had started. It seemed to be going okay, with Jean seeming to be completely fine with whatever the other person was saying, that was until he started to become visibly agitated at the person on the other end of the call. As the conversation progressed, Jean's sentences became curt and his words became sharp and annoyed. He quite frankly looked like he was ready to stab someone's heart out with a sharpie.

I watched him recoil into himself like a snake before it strikes as the conversation was drawing to an end. I debated taking his phone away to ask him if he was okay right before he ended the call with a final 'okay, whatever, bye' and slammed the end call button down with so much more force than what was necessary.

I cringed as he roughly shoved his phone back into his coat pocket. He stood beside me in silence after taking out his anger on his phone for a moment before he spoke up. “Carolina says she'll be another fifteen to twenty minutes. She said she got held back by one of her teachers or something.”

I laughed, letting the tension that I had built up in my body out with a large heave of air “No big deal then. It's not like I'm going anywhere, right? I don't mind waiting with you.”

He scowled down at the sidewalk, probably killing all of the alive ants that had survived the changing of the season with his laser glare. “She could have called me sooner.”

“Mhmm, yes I agree.” I hummed gently, sending him a sympathetic look. “But,” I said drawing out every single syllable in the word, “that doesn't change the fact that she didn't so hey, let's go wait inside for her, my fingers are freezing off.”

Jean touched my hand idly, running his fingers over my cool hand with his somehow warm hands. “You _are_ cold.” he stated, simply repeating what I had just said with different words as he took my arm and pulled me somewhat roughly a step forward toward the school, seeing if I would follow his lead. “Bring a coat tonight instead of a sweater you idiot or you're going to turn into an ice cube. And like, not the one from _Are We There Yet?_.”

I let out a chilled laugh and fell in stride beside him. “Mmm. I'll try my best to remember that.”

We stepped inside again, sighing contently in unison as the warm air greeted us. “It's September, it's not allowed to be this fucking cold.” Jean told me with narrowed eyes like the weather had betrayed him as he let go of me and started to rub his hands up and down his upper arms in a rapid motion. I conked an eyebrow at him. Maybe he had been a little more cold than he had let on.

I leaned against the brick wall right beside the doors and watched him in rising amusement. “Yeah, just think, we'll be spending the whole night outside.” I sneered jokingly. “You still up for your mission, space cadet?”

He glared over at me. “Don't patronize me Bodt.”

I pushed myself off of the wall so I was standing up straight beside him. I forced myself to shift my face into a grim expression and lifted my hand up to my temple in a mock salute. “Aye, aye captain Kirschtein.” I said in the most monotone voice I could muster.

His blinked in my direction slowly for a second before he turned away from me and buried his face in his hands, stiffing a laugh. “Oh my god Marco, you dweeb.”

I grinned at him. “If you think what I said was embarrassing, I'm kind of glad you can't see what I'm doing.”

“Public masturbation?” Jean questioned. “Not cool man.”

He never stopped surprising me when he said stuff like that.

“Yep. Jean you caught me, I am most certainly touching my dick right now.” I replied.

Guess I was learning how to respond to it though.

Jean nodded solemnly. “Knew it.”

I laughed this time and leaned back against my wall. The cold of it leaked it's way through my sweater making me shiver. I hugged my arm around myself and turned to Jean. “You think it'll work?”

“I need a little bit more details on what you're talking about.” he answered, only half paying attention to me now as he swung his walking stick idly in front of his legs.

“Getting Connie and Sasha together.” I told him, kicking his stick lightly, making it swing higher.

“I hope so.” he replied. “I think it'll make them both happy.”

“Me too.” I said honestly, looking down at my feet. “but at the same time, I don't think they'll get together right away either. I mean yeah, they like each other but we can't just smash their heads together and force them to kiss. All we can really do is push them in the right direction.”

“There you go again!” Jean exclaimed making me lift my head with a start. “Who says they aren't ready to lip battle? Who says tonight won't spark the beginning of something awesome between them? You have to live in the moment Marco and have no regrets about it. You have to dive in headfirst with blank mind and face the consequences later. After all, it's the what if's that kills people not the why nots.”

“We don't control them Jean. They aren't puppets. We can only give them helpful pushes along the way. This is something they have to figure out for themselves.” I said firmly. “So if you have something up your sleeve that will make either of them do something they aren't ready for, you should drop the idea right now.”

Jean didn't do anything but let out a long, over exaggerated and dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine. Just small, helpful pushes. I got it.”

“Good.” I nodded. “Thank you Jean.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever you big sap.”

The sound of flat, leather shoes hitting the ground made me look away from Jean and toward the sound. Wild blonde hair flew in all directions as the young girl carrying a neon orange backpack by one of the shoulder straps came flying down the hall in a sprint. “Jean!” Carolina panted as she reached the two of us. “I'm so sorry! I had to-” The words came tumbling out of her mouth but as soon as her eyes fell on me, she cut herself off. “Oh hey Marco, I didn't know you'd still be here.” she turned back to Jean, took his arm and stated blandly, “All my guilt about making you wait has vanished, since you were in fact not alone. Let's go home I'm hungry. Thanks for watching him Marco.”

Jean scowled at snarled, “Stop making me sound like a helpless kitten because I'm not. I could have waited my my own but Marco stays late and wanted to wait with me. I don't need to be looked after every second. I'm not a baby and you know that so stop being an ass.” He told her grumpily, his voice just on the brink of becoming angry. When Carolina shrugged off what he said, he gave her an irritated look and turned back to me and asked, “So, I guess I'll meet you at the fair at seven then?”

“You bet, space cadet.” I chirped, saluting him again.

 

* * *

 

 

Okay, so thinking back on it now it was completely stupid for me to spend over half an hour debating on what I should wear to the fair since the person I was trying to semi impress was indeed blind but yeah, I did it anyway. Self confidence issue? Again, probably.

I sighed and changed back into the clothes I had worn to school earlier that day. In a sucky turn of events, it turned out that I would never be able to actually impress Jean with my clothes but on the plus side, I guess that meant I could wear my _Adventure Time_ hoodie as much as I wanted to without him judging me.

With a sudden surge of excitement, I raced down the stairs from my bedroom and bounded into the kitchen, ignoring the skeptical look Alicia gave me and dry swallowed the pills that mom had left on the counter for me.

I saw Alicia cringe when I gagged on the pills since I had to swallow a few times to get them down properly. In an apology, I offered her a quick smile and knelt down beside her to rather clumsily attempt to help her button up her bright pink jacket.

“Here let me help.” I offered, my hand grabbing the black, plastic disk but almost immediately slipping off.

She swatted my hand away with an eye roll and retorted, “Grandma could do up my coat quicker than you Marco.” she told me in a bored tone. “Why are you wearing that?”

“Huh?” I backed off and let her do up the buttons by herself and looked down at the clothes I had picked out. I raised.“It's nothing different from what I usually wear.”

Without hesitation, she answered,“You look like a loser.”

I gave her an irritated look and glanced back down at myself. It really wasn't anything new, just my _Iron Man_ hoodie, a baseball cap and jeans. I pursed my lips, letting my irritated gaze fall and I stuck my tongue out at her. It's not like she was actually insulting me, she was just poking fun at me for a reaction. “The best, most handsome, great brother and awesomely attractive loser.”

It was her turn to send me a completely done look. She had locked my gaze and told me in her most serious voice that my outfit was too nerdy.

I loved her a lot, but god she was a booger sometimes.

Wait to make me second guess myself Alicia.

I felt like a middle school girl getting jitters before her first spring fling, running up and down the stairs to her room, switching between the three different dresses she had bought just in case the boy she happened to like decided to show up to the dance. Of course, I didn't go up and change my outfit but that doesn't mean I hadn't thought about it.

My phone buzzed in my hoodie pocket. I dug it out and raised an eyebrow at the screen.

 

 

**From: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_marco, bruh where the hell r u??????_

 

 

I took a quick glance at the time on my phone. 7:10. Shit, I was late.

 

 

**To: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_When the heck did you and Sasha take my phone and change your names???_

 

 

**From: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_cupple weeks ago shws hw much u txt us_

 

 

**To: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_I know, I'm sorry!!! Sasha already guilt tripped me!_

 

 

**From: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_good. U desrve it._

 

 

I rolled my eyes at the phone and heard mom yell from upstairs for us to go wait in the car for her. I tucked my phone away into my pocket again and ushered Alicia out the front door, grabbing my coat on the way out. I felt my phone vibrate against my side at least five times as I helped Alicia into the backseat of the beat up car.

 

 _I literally have no hands right now, calm your frigging tits Connie Springer._ I thought as I slammed Alicia's door so I could get up to the front and ride shotgun.

 

I rubbed my hand against my torso to warm it up and I pulled my phone back out of my pocket and saw that I had miscounted and actually had seven messages.

 

**From: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_k so rly wear the fuk r u_

 

 

**From: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_marco. Its fuking cld we want 2 do rides get ur ass 2 the fair rite now_

 

 

 

**From: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_im giving jean ur number, hes like peeing his pants 2 talk 2 u_

 

 

 

_**From: Unknown Number** _

 

_Marco._

 

 

 

_**From: Unknown Number** _

 

_Marco._

 

 

 

_**From: Unknown Number** _

 

_Marco. I know this is the right number, Connie literally just gave it to me. Answer me. Get your ass to the fair right now you nerd._

 

 

 

_**From: Unknown Number** _

 

_I am freezing my ass off for you right now and I'm going to kick your ass if you don't get here in like two minutes._

 

 

I was kind of surprised to get texts from Jean so suddenly but I slung shot myself into the front seat of the car and sent him a quick reply.

 

 

**To: Unknown Number**

 

_I'm on my way I promise. Alicia decided that she wanted to come tonight with mom too so they're going to do some rides together tonight. I know I kept you waiting, tell the others I'm on the way and that I'll buy you guys cotton candy later to make up for it._

I hit send just as mom got in the car and started up the ignition. I could change his contact name after, it wasn't a very pressing matter right now.

 

 

_**From: Unknown Number** _

 

_Sasha says you are forgiven but if you're not here in another ten minutes you have to buy us all candy apples too._

 

 

 

_**To: Unknown Number** _

 

_Deal, be there in five._

 

 

 

_**From: Unknown Number** _

 

_Cool._

 

 

 

_**From: Unknown Number** _

 

_Also, who's Alicia?_

 

 

I didn't reply to this one, instead, I shimmied my way into my coat,which proved to be quite the struggle and shoved my phone deep into the pocket and forgot about the messages.

Mom found a parking spot relatively easily, which was a surprise due to how busy I remember the fair being but it was a good thing since if I had of been a minute later, I would have had to buy the three idiots I was waiting for more food than I had money for.

I practically ran to the meeting place we had planned after I paid to get in, which meant I had fumbled my wallet about eight times before I could actually get in and then dropped my money another three but whatever, at least I was in now. I could feel people staring at me as I jogged past them. I watched them turn to each other as I passed, hearing them wonder who the hell the kid with the panicked expression was and why the right side of his coat was flapping all over the place.

I guess I did look sort of funny.

I let out a panting sigh of relief as I saw Sasha's high pony tail and Jean's muffin top but as they saw me, Connie moaned in sync with Sasha which was to be expected since it meant no candy apples for them.

Ha ha ha, I win.

Jean seemed to catch on that I had arrived and sent me a wave, which was sent in the wrong direction but it made my insides feel warm none the less.

“God, you made us wait long enough!” Connie whined, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “Come on let's hurry up, I want to get this fucking party started already!”

“Alright, alright! Geez, I'm sorry I'm late. I just need to go to the ticket booth and buy some tickets and then we can start doing stuff, okay?” I insisted, shimmying out of the weight of Connie's arm and backing up a few steps.

“Don't be dumb,” Sasha retorted with a snort as she popped what looked like a jawbreaker into her mouth and pressed a stack of tickets to my chest. “we've got you covered Freckles.”

“ _Jean_ had him covered.” Connie snickered elbowing Jean in the ribs teasingly.

Jean stuck out his chin and elbowed Connie back so hard that he doubled over, clutching his side. “Shut up.” Jean said without a hint of emotion.

“You're heartless.” Connie wheezed.

I looked down at the tickets and flipped them over in my hand a few times. Looking up I saw Jean lightly kicking the toe of his boot into the ground and I immediately felt like I should say something or thank him at least. “Oh, um thank you Jean, that was really, really nice of you.” I decided to go with.

Jean flushed this time and turned his body away to try and hide it. “Yeah, whatever, I only bought them 'cause you were taking too long.”

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

“So what do you guys think?” Sasha asked the three of us. “Want to hit up some games, gorge ourselves with food and then barf up our insides on some rides?”

“I'm in.” Connie said, raising his hand.

“Though, I can't say that I'll be good at any of the games here, I'm in too.” Jean answered.

“I guess I'm down too.” I added.

“Awesome!” Sasha said fist bumping the air in excitement. “Marco bae, you have got to win us some shit at the dart games, you used to be the bomb at them!”

I let out a shaky laugh and scratched the back of my neck with the palm of my hand. “Ha, well I guess the key word is used to be, I may be a little rusty.”

“Well come on then, let's find out!” Sasha practically yelled over the noise that was growing around us, grabbing on to Connie in excitement.

“Yeah, yeah, you pick the first game.” I yelled back.

Before I knew it we were weaving in and out of crowds to get to a game Sasha thought we could win at. People were screaming around us, hanging on to their family and friends so they wouldn't get lost and stopping to stare at the two of us in the middle of the path, making it nearly impossible for a one armed boy and a blind boy to make their way through. I could feel myself becoming more and more stressed out when we almost lost Connie and Sasha for the second time but I wasn't nearly as stressed out by the chaos as I was worried for Jean. I quickly looked over to him to see if he was okay with the volume change.

Other than his new found tightened clutch on my arm, he seemed to be perfectly okay, he was even smiling a little bit so I didn't voice my concern.

I took in a long breath of air, I just needed to calm down a little and take a minute to relax. Everything was okay. I was out having fun with my friends. Who cared that people were staring at us? I was going to have fun.

When I let out the air, it was in a very shaky breath but my confidence was growing again and my stress level was going down. I tried my best to ignore the people around me and just focus on the warmth that was leaking into my arm where Jean was pressed against me.

“So what's the plan?” I whispered, leaning over right beside his ear. The metal bar that went through the top of his ear touched my cheek slightly, chilling it for a second but I didn't mind being this close to him.

Jean leaned into me a little bit more so that he could whisper back. “We're going to make it a competition.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“The games at least.” he reassured. “We'll challenge them to see who can win the most prizes.”

“How does that-?” I started.

“Hey,” he nudged me. “just trust me okay?”

“Okay.” I whispered back.

“Jean! Marco! Let's play this one!” came Sasha's loud voice from a game that couldn't have been more than ten steps away.

Pulling Jean slightly over to the side where we rejoined the others, I saw that Sasha and Connie had indeed picked a dart game to play first.

Balloons hung to the wall, ten darts already lined up in front of them. “Wanna see if you still got it man?” Connie asked.

I grinned. “Yeah.”

“Woah, everyone slow down, Marco seems to be starting to have fun.” Sasha retorted to my enthusiasm by taking a step back.

“Rude.” I replied.

“I think Marco could hit more than Connie.” Jean interjected.

“Kids, are you going to throw your darts?” The vendor asked us impatiently.

“Yeah, sorry just a minute, sorry.” I replied as I looked over to Connie. “I think I could too.” I replied backing Jean up in whatever his plan was.

“You're fucking on Freckles.” Connie replied, laying down another ten dollar bill for ten more darts. “I'm gonna beat yo ass.”

I wiggled Jean's arm off of mine and plucked up a dart. Turning it over several times in my hand, I tossed it forcefully at a red balloon and it made a satisfying loud pop in response. I fist bumped the air and let out a victory yell. “Yes!”

“That was just luck!” Connie insisted as he threw his dart, missing a green balloon just by a fraction.

Excited now, I threw my next dart and it hit the balloon that he had missed. I grinned again. This was fun. I had honestly missed this.

By the end of the game, Connie had ended up hitting two of ten shots while I had hit eight. Connie seemed disappointed but more than ready to challenge me to a rematch of the game of his choice after he ran to the bathroom. With a laugh, I had agreed.

Jean smiled at me. “You're happy.”

I looked at him in surprise. “Yeah, but I usually am anyway.”

“Mhmm, but this is a different kind of happy. It's like leaking off of you in vibes. I can hear the smile in your voice more than usual.”

“Is that bad?” I asked him.

“It's nice.” Jean replied.

I blushed just as the vendor looked down at me and cleared his throat. “So kid, what prize do you want?”

For a second I had forgot about the prizes. I glanced up to look at the prizes I could pick from. In the corner at a brownish, gold teddy bear with slightly matted fur and deep black eyes. Picking quickly, I pointed to it “Uh, that one?”

He took it down off of the hook and handed the prize to me. “Nice shooting kid.”

I inspected it for a minute as we walked away from the dart game. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Sasha was waiting for Connie outside the outhouses a few rides away and realizing that Jean and I would be alone for a few minutes. I bit my lip and pushed the stuffed bear against Jean's chest. “You can have it.” I said quickly through a blush.

Jean looked taken aback. “Oh, uh, thank you.” He took the animal from my hands carefully and held it like it was almost delicate. Slowly, his hands ran themselves over the fur, feeling the shape of the animal and he smiled. “I'm going to name him Freckles.”

“Sounds perfect.” I told him with another laugh and pressed my arm back against his. In the back of my mind I realized that my hands and ears were starting to feel a bit chilly but I didn't say that out loud. I should have worn gloves. “He definitely looks like a Freckles.”

“Mhmm.” Jean replied, leaning against me a little more, after swinging the stuffed bear into his backpack. “I can't vouch for that.”

I let out a low laugh that came from the back of my throat. I looked down at him again. I looked at where his arm was touching mine and where his vague gaze was staring off to but mostly, I looked at where I wanted to hold his hand.

His gloved hands looked warm.

“Rematch!” came Connie Springer's war car from behind us making us both jump as he flung his arms around the two of us.

 

* * *

 

 

We played games for the next half hour and Connie did win most of the other games we played, except the other dart game we played where I won a tiny, stuffed snail that was no bigger than my palm. Jackpot, am I right?

Sasha played a few games too but Jean didn't, which we understood. When it was just Connie and I playing, Jean had told me to loose a few times, which disgraced my honour a bit until I saw Connie fringe all of his prizes clumsily on Sasha, just like I had done to Jean, making her squeal in delight. I swore I had seen her blush slightly once too when Connie had won her a plushie toy that was shaped like a carton of french fries.

When we had all decided that we had enough of blowing our money on cheap toys that came from games, we headed over to the food court.

Jean had whispered to me that this was Connie's time to shine in Sasha's eyes but it was all up to me to make him seem like the hero.

With a loud sigh to him after he told me what I had to do, I pulled Sasha's ponytail from behind her.

“Sup, Marco?” She asked twisting her body to walk backwards to face me.

“Doesn't that vendor sell that really greasy pizza you like?”

Sasha's eyes light up. “Yeah! But, that place is like hella expensive and I blew most of my money on my tickets and the games.”

“That sucks.” Jean seconded.

“Massively.” I agreed.

Connie intervened like Jean had thought he would. “Is the place really that good? My parents gave me a butt load of money, I could buy you all a slice if you want.”

“Nah, I'm going to buy some mini doughnuts and some cotton candy for you guys with Jean. I don't want any but thanks.”

“I'm cool with mini doughnuts and cotton candy too.” Jean replied.

“Well, since you offered, it'd be rude to decline.” Sasha told Connie. “Connie you're the greatest.”

“I know.” He said pulling his wallet out.

As they went to go get their pizza, Jean and I made our way over to the cotton candy cart. “So what did that accomplish?” I asked him.

“The way to Sasha's heart is through he stomach.” he told me as we reached the line for the cart.

“Pretty sure you're paraphrasing a quote there.” I replied dryly.

He shrugged. “Probably.”

I paid for four bags of cotton candy, it cost me over twenty dollars, which I found to be a huge rip off but I guess it was the fair and everything was massively overpriced anyway. After another wait in the mini doughnut line, we made our way back to the others who were sitting cross legged on a patch of grass, stuffed animals littered on their laps and munching on pizza that smelt ridiculously good.

I handed them their cotton candy without a word and plopped myself down beside them, sprawling myself out on my back on the probably gum filled grass. Jean sat beside me, just out of arm reach.

The three of them were talking about something but after a moment of just munching on my cotton candy, I noticed that I wasn't paying attention to the conversation. My mind was racing. I was happy here. I was having fun and not caring about what people were thinking about me for the first time in forever.

It was nice to just lay here with my friends and watch the colour of the sky fade into beautiful yellows and violets.

They finished eating quicker than I would have liked and after ten minutes of letting their food settle, Connie and Sasha were more than ready to go on some rides. I wasn't really feeling any fast rides and neither was Jean so we handed them the majority of our tickets and promised them we would go on the Ferris wheel with them when they were done with their thrills.

Sasha grabbed Connie's hand and dragged him over to the nearest adrenaline rush while Jean and I found a white and blue bench to sit on that was across from the bumper cars.

“I thought you would have been totally down for the fast rides.” I told Jean honestly when we had sat down comfortably.

Jean shrugged. “Don't get me wrong, I love fast rides like roller coasters but spinning rides tend to make me sick. Especially after I just ate.”

“Makes sense.”

We sat there on the small bench for almost an hour and a half while Connie and Sasha raced around from ride to ride. I was starting to feel a bit more cold and tired now, so I let Jean fill out the conversational void between us, which he didn't mind doing since he happened to have way too many opinions about everything around us anyway. It was nice to just hear him talk.

“Do you think they're having fun?” Jean asked me.

“I think so.” I replied shutting my eyes for a minute and then reopening them to look at the blackening sky. “I mean, I am and I'm not even going on any rides.”

Jean smiled at me again. “Me too.”

When Connie and Sasha came back to take us to the Ferris wheel, Jean was tossing his arms around in the air and I think he was talking about the consistency of cotton candy compared to a spider web that he had walked into a couple weeks ago but I wasn't 100% sure.

“Hey, sorry we made you guys wait so long for us, the lines are crazy.” Sasha said stretching her arms out above her head. “Man, my stomach hurts.”

Connie was practically propping himself up against the trash bin beside the bench when he spoke. “You're telling me.” he said, a greenish colour painting his uncharacteristically pale face.

“You threw up didn't you?” I inquired.

“Twice.” Sasha clarified for him. “Like a champ.”

“Nice.” Jean stated holding out his fist for Connie to fist bump. Connie groaned and weakly hit his knuckles against Jean's before tossing his body weakly onto the bench beside him.

“Oh my god, I'm not going to eat for a week.” he moaned.

“C'mon champ.” Sasha said grabbing his arm and pulling him back to his feet while he moaned in protest. “We said we'd go on the Ferris wheel before we go home.”

“Jean and I can go alone if you need to sit down.” I offered, ignoring the savage glare Jean sent at me in protest. Not to paint to graphic a picture, but the way he was glaring at me was kind of like I had offered to replace everything he cared about with blow up sex dolls. To tell me bluntly that I was going against his plan, he decided to elbow me hard in the gut. I let out a small groan and grabbed my side. “You need to stop doing that to people.” I whined.

Sasha gave us both a slightly confused look, seeming to catch on for a second but she shrugged it off. “Like we're going to pass up a ride on the Ferris wheel. Nice try Marco Butt.” she retorted.

“You know,” Connie interrupted, the slightest, little bit of colour returning back to his face. “if Marco were to win an award, it would probably be for the nicest butt.”

“That was a little gay.” Sasha told him.

Connie shrugged and winked at me. “Ain't nothing wrong with a platonic compliment to a bro on his nice butt.”

“Am I missing something by not being able to see his butt? Like does looking at it give you infinite knowledge to the universe or what?” Jean asked.

I blushed feverishly. “If it's not too much to ask I'd much rather talk about something else.”

“Buzz kill.” Sasha remarked. “Well, the line isn't too long for the Ferris wheel. If we get in it now, we should be able to get on in like ten minutes.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jean stated.

Connie and Sasha lead the way toward the Ferris wheel with Jean and I following a few steps behind them. The sky was completely dark now due to the smog clouds that masked any stars that usually would have been littering the sky with light. The fair by contrast was so bright that the lights were actually straining my eyes as I actively tried to avert my gaze from them. Bright, beautiful colours illuminated the faces of people who walked by us, filling the park grounds with a light that seemed almost eternal. The rides made loud, making clonking noises as we passed them with their brightness acting like artificial stars. Though, I seemed to be almost hyper aware of the lights, the sounds around me passed through my ears without registration. Screams of joy and laughter, went through one ear and out the other, reminding me of drunk chaos. It felt mind numbingly peaceful but who knows, maybe it just felt that way because I was feeling drowsy.

As we came to a stop at the end of the line behind two girls making out, I came to the realization that Jean was holding up a conversation and discussing something with Connie and Sasha. God, I had zoned out again. I did that way too too much. Trying to catch up on what they were talking about, I made a mental note that I needed to work on that.

As they talked, I listened carefully to what they were saying with one thought running around my head on repeat.

_You have to dive in headfirst with blank mind and face the consequences later. After all, it's the what if's that kills people not the why nots._

I shifted my gaze from Jean to Connie and finally to Sasha.

Maybe it was because of the fairy tales that Jean had been telling me the past couple of days but as I watched Connie and Sasha hold on to each other while they laughed, I noted that maybe they did have more than an initial attraction and friendship for each other. Sure, she had a couple inches on him and made him look like a midget when she wore high heels and yeah, sometimes he hid her food just to get a rise from her but wasn't that the kind of thing that made a relationship richer?

Instead of speaking, I pressed my shoulder into Jean's. I knew that I had been right that it wasn't right to force them into an immediate relationship like Jean had wanted but taking them out to help push them in the right direction seemed to have been a good move on our part.

Jean leaned back against me without making a stupid remark and sighed quietly under his breath, the hot air brushing softly against the side of my neck.

I smiled at him as he toyed idly with the zipper of his jacket with his free hand, clearly unaware that I was looking at him.

Jean was the kind of guy that made me want to spend hours alone in my room with just my thoughts, write crappy poetry and listen to sappy _Owl City_ songs. He was beautiful.

When we got to the front of the line, Connie and Sasha gave their tickets to the man running the ride and hopped into a cart. Jean and I were ushered in shortly after, but to the cart behind them. Neither of us had time to protest, so I guess they had assumed that our group didn't want to ride together and we were simply sent an apologetic look from Sasha over her shoulder as her cart began to rise. Apparently she or Connie, maybe both of them had decided to ride by themselves.

I felt like I should have been offended, but I wasn't.

Jean sat quietly across from me in the booth, knitting his fingers into the fabric of my sleeve tightly. “You okay?” I asked him.

“Tired.” he replied dipping his head forward slightly, his voice thick and sluggish.

I let out a laugh that came from the back of my throat and I leaned forward almost enough for our heads to touch to squeeze his arm. “Me too.” I told him.

We sat in silence as the wheel inched us up toward the highest point of the circle as more passengers were ushered into carts at the bottom. “Hey, Marco?” Jean mumbled.

“Mhmm?” I said lifting my gaze from the ground below us to look back over at him at the sound of my name.

“Is it pretty?” he asked.

“The fair?” I questioned back.

“Yeah.” he replied.

“It is.” I assured him. “In fact all of the colours are hurting my eyes.”

He didn't answer me this time, instead, he stared off of the Ferris wheel in somewhat of a daze. “I want to see it.” he said after a moment.

I blinked at him. I didn't know what to say. I mean, what do you say when your blind friend has a wish to see when he physically can't? I had no idea.

“ _I_ wish you could see it.” I decided to answer with.

He nodded and sighed. “Hey, Marco?” he asked again.

“Yeah?”

“I want to see you too.”

If I were a grenade my pin would have just been pulled. “O-oh.” I stammered.

“I know it's kind of a weird thing to ask but like, can you,” he paused, colour pumping into his cheeks as he turned his face away. “can you tell me what you look like?”

Oh my god, he was adorable.

Trying to contain my own blush, I squeezed his arm again. “Yeah, okay.” I hummed softly for a moment before I spoke again, collecting my thoughts. “Well, uh, I'm tall -oh shit you already knew that one- uh well, my skin is like olive coloured I guess, I mean my mom is white but my dad was from Italy and um... I have brown hair too and brown eyes? God I sound boring. Um, I have way too many freckles and I mean sometimes I don't even know where they come from. I swear, some of them don't even come from the sun. Sometimes they just kind of appear out of the blue on my skin and like sometimes I play connect the dots on my arms when I'm bored and well, that's weird sorry I'm rambling but um I-”

Jean cut me off with a loud, child-like and completely genuine laugh. I stopped talking abruptly and stared at him in silence, completely stunned by his unusual, out of character burst. As he laughed out into the darkness, eyes crinkling and wide, shit eating grin spreading across his face, I quirked an eyebrow at him as I wondering if I had said something wrong. Though, when his laugh died down to a giggle, instead of calling me out on something he grinned at me and replied seriously, “Marco, buddy, don't worry about it. You sound beautiful.”

My heart stuttered in my chest.

“Y-yeah?” I replied, looking away from him. Trying to ignore my burning face was becoming almost impossible now.

“Yeah.” he repeated.

I didn't know how to reply without embarrassing myself so I sat there in silence, looking down at my feet, trying to shield my face from the chilly gusts of wind that were more prominent from high up. As the giant wheel turned faster now, whoops of laughter and shouts could be heard from the cart that Connie and Sasha were in.

“You gave them too much cotton candy.” Jean remarked shortly.

I scoffed. “Yeah, like them being idiots is my fault.”

He leaned back into his seat, letting go of my arm and he sighed dramatically. “Yep, you've known them longer than me.”

“Pfft.” I scoffed again, leaning back as well. I shut my eyes for a brief second, resting my head on the glass panel behind me.

We rode the rest of the ride in silence with nothing but our shoes touching, listening to nothing but the screams of our two dumb friends above us and the people of Trost below us. Jean started to hum a song as the wheel started to unload it's passengers but if I knew the song, it was slipping my mind. It sounded pretty though.

When it was our turn to get out of our cart, I made a point of hopping out of the cart first so I could extend my hand to help Jean climb out. He stumbled a bit as he made his way out but he actually managed to get out more gracefully than I had.

He shifted his grip from my hand to my arm as we walked off of the platform to meet up with Sasha and Connie who looked like they were about to collapse from exhaustion. I was about to point it out to stir a laugh from Jean but when I looked down at us I realized I really couldn't poke fun when the only we were walking so close together was because we could barely walk without the support of each other.

Connie poked Jean idly in the shoulder as we reached them. “Hey, mom just texted me, she'll be here to get us in like twenty minutes.”

“Okay, cool.” Jean replied, adjusting his grip on my sleeve.

“You guys came together?” I asked, a little bit surprised.

“Huh? Oh yeah, my sister is actually visiting from Jinae.” Jean replied. “And mom asked me if I could get a ride with anyone so she could spend more time with Anna since she's only here for the weekend and Connie had already offered so, yeah.”

“Huh.” I said.

“Marco is offended that you didn't ask him for a drive.” Sasha snorted, poking me in the gut.

“What? No I'm not!” I exclaimed.

“You are jeeeeeeealous.” Sasha clarified.

“Hey, how about we head up to the front and wait for my mom.” Connie offered, interjecting himself quickly into our squabble. “She hates waiting.”

“Oh right, yeah, let's go.” Sasha replied hooking arms with Jean's free arm and one of Connie's so that we were a string of bodies. She dragged us all forward with her as she skipped, forcing us to skip with her. “We're off to see the wizard.” Sasha sang, making bystanders look at us in confusion.

I laughed at her shrill, awful and passion filed voice. “The wonderful wizard of Oz.” Connie and I sang in unison.

Jean lifted an eyebrow at us and allowed himself to be pulled into the skipping parade that the three of us had started. “You guys are all losers.” he huffed, clearly our of breath as we reached the front gate.

“Losers that know how to have fun.” Sasha told him.

Connie looked up and down the road for cars and upon not seeing his mom he declared. “Well, she's not here yet so I guess we can chill for a few minutes.”

“Awesome.” Jean said. “Man, I'm cold.” he hissed unhooking himself from me and rubbing his hands together like they would start a fire in his palms. “Wait, wait, wait, I have the perfect cure for that.”

He dug into the pockets of his oversized jacket and rummaged around for a minute before he pulled out small rectangular box.

It took me approximately three seconds to realize what they were.

Cigarettes.

It took me less than that time to put two and two together.

My stomach dropped.

Dear god Marco, you idiot. He obviously doesn't live in a burning oven, why else would he smell like smoke all the time.

Sasha and Connie were quiet now, watching me watch Jean in horror, not sure if they should say anything. I shook my head at them, assuring them that it was fine.

Jean seemed to realize the sudden unease and he raised an eyebrow at the three of us. “What? Is something wrong. Marco, bud, do you want one?” he asked holding the packet out to me.

“No.” I replied softly, pushing the package back toward him.

“Ohhhh." Jean said smacking the top of his forehead with his palm in mock realization. His lips moved awkwardly around the cigarette that was placed between his lips, giving him a slight lisp as he talked. "I get it you guys are the kind of people who are against smoking, yeah?” Jean asked, scoffing slightly. He whistled. “Shit, I could have guessed that one. I mean you guys aren't from Jinae. You're too good for this right?” His voice echoed with irritation in a very Jean-like way, assuring me that yes, this was real.

Oh no.

A small flare of anger bubbled into my stomach. Was he really getting angry at me for not wanting a cigarette? Was he seriously offended by me refusing him? “You know,” I replied, trying not to let the fury that was growing inside of me to etch into my voice. “smoking is one of the leading causes of cancer.”

Jean furrowed his brow and his eyes narrowed at me into a glare.

“Marco.” Sasha whispered. “Stop. It's okay.”

“No it's not.” I rasped, not tearing my eyes off of Jean. “Did you know that?” I asked again. “Did you know that it leads to cancer?”

“Of course I know that you dumb shit. It pretty much all but spells it out on the box.” He hissed.

I drew in a long breath, my stomach turning inside out and knotting itself together. His words were stinging my skin. I couldn't breath. My breath was catching unevenly in my throat and my limbs were numbing themselves and I knew for a fact that this wasn't an effect from the cold. “If you know,” I said, forcing my voice out. Even to my ears it sounded strangled. “then why? Why would you do that to yourself?”

I sounded like a child.

He glared at me. “Because I don't care Marco Bodt. I like my cigarettes. If I get cancer, I get cancer and we'll face the consequences when we get to them from six feet under.”

“Jean-” Connie interjected harshly, moving forward to separate the two of in case either of us decided to do something stupid.

“Well, it's not like I'm going to sugar coat it!” Jean exclaimed at Connie. "I don't care."

I held out my hand so that Connie wouldn't jump into the argument. “You- you- you _fucking_   _idiot_.” I managed to fumble out in a shrill voice, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Why the hell would you do that to yourself you shithead? Why would anyone choose to put themselves through that just for the sake of not caring!? Jean, you're killing yourself! This is something to care about, not be indifferent to!"

I whipped my tears away furiously and clenched my jaw. I didn't want to cry. I wasn't going to. I wasn't going to cry like I had when they had diagnosed me. I wasn't going to cry like I had when I had been told they would have to amputate my prominent arm. I wasn't going to cry like when I had seem my fucking stupid stub arm for the first time. I wasn't going to cry.

My swearing seemed to throw Jean off but now Sasha had moved forward to touch my right shoulder. “Marco, Marco! He doesn't know!”

“Good!” I let myself yell. My breathing had become ragged and uneven in my throat and I was starting to feel lightheaded. My limbs were starting to numb out so I shook my arm harshly, desperately trying to regain some of the feeling. But damn, yelling, letting it out, that felt so good and I wasn't yet ready to stop. “He wouldn't fucking get it anyway. He doesn't fucking care!” My voice was so strangled and weak now and I decided that I completely hated it.

Jean didn't say anything now as Connie held him back from me. He stood there looking completely lost and terrified, his eyes had grown wide and his mouth was frozen and slightly agape. I didn't even want to see him right now. I couldn't look at him. Sasha placed her hands on my shoulders lightly and hushed me soothingly. “Marco, sweety, you're having another panic attack. Marco, you need to breathe okay? Breathe with me. In and out, okay?” Sasha assured me, running her hand soothingly over my hair that wasn't covered by my hat. “It's okay, it's okay, I promise.”

“Connie,” Jean whispered in a hushed and frightened voice. “Connie, what's happening?”

“Don't.” Connie whispered back. “Just don't okay?”

Sasha pulled me into a light hug and continued to stroke my hair, whispering to me that it was going to be okay.

I don't know how long I stood there, letting her hug me, letting her tell me everything was going to be okay when it wasn't but it felt like forever. A painful forever. I was stuck in a purgatory limbo of wanting to hold her closer and let her fight my anxiety for me and wanting to push her away from me and drown in my fears quietly and by myself.

Neither option seemed fair.

I pushed her away and whipped my eyes again. “I-I'm going to go and look for my mom inside the fair.” I told her softly. “I want to go home now. I-I can't be here anymore.”

Sasha looked up at me with wide, concerned eyes. “Marco you shouldn't go alone, I-”

“I'm okay.” I assured her with a small smile.

“Marco-” Jean started.

I didn't answer him. I didn't even look over to where Connie and him were standing, instead, I simply turned on my heel and walked away from the three of them without another word. I was afraid to look back.

Silently and all by myself, I walked back into the chaos and colour.

Live in the moment my ass.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed as you know, I have a tumblr: makohar-eau.tumblr.com so if you want to follow me for updates on the story or ask me questions that would be awesome. (I also track the tags fic: just out of reach and khaiyo on tumblr in case you want me to see anything)  
> It would be awesome if you left me a kudos or comment, I love reading and seeing them ^-^  
> Thank you all for your continuous support on this story guys it means so much and I hope to get the next chapter up soon! I may edit this chapter again who knows.  
> -Khaiyo


	4. Remembering You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco thinks, stories are told and hands are held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to post guys! I spent the majority of time writing it in hospitals, airports, planes and hotels. But hey exams are over, the hospital visits are done (for now thank God) and I'll be updating at least once a month now so yay!  
> Happy Valentine's Day guys, I hope you have a great day filled with love and chocolate and if it's not I'm right here with you.  
> This chapter is also dedicated as an early birthday gift to my friend Megan because she's really supportive of this story and she lives far away so I can't actually give her anything for her birthday. I hope you like it and happy birthday!! (also this will test if you read the author's notes)  
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter guys, I hope you like it.

Chapter four:

I think people do what they do in life, not to enjoy the ride, but rather to survive it. How many times have you or I seen someone who seems genuinely happy to be alive? Someone who was grateful for the misgivings?

We aspire to be who we want to be tomorrow but never today and I am no exception. 

Nothing I've gone though will ever matter. My suffering, my triumph, my pain and happiness. None of it mattered.

I'm a coward. A depressed introvert who believes everyone should stand on the same moral ground as myself. It's pathetic and yet in the grand scope of things, it doesn't matter.

And that folks is your horoscope for the day.

Even with all those thoughts out in the open, I couldn't bring myself to understand why I felt like someone was pulling out my insides and then shoving them back inside my body like my pain was a shitty and sadistic game of _Operation._  

I felt guilty.

Guilty. Guilty that I yelled, that I panicked, that I bailed. Guilty I had left my friends and had to end up calling my mom to come back and pick me up because she and Alicia had already gone home. Guilty for judging Jean based on _my_ moral beliefs. Guilty that I hadn't answered Sasha and Connie's frantic texts when I got home. Guilty that I had ignored Jean's phone calls.

I felt sick and repulsed by myself to the point where I felt like I was going to throw up.

When did I become this way? I felt like a shell of a person.

I sat alone in my room at my desk with the door closed firmly. You know, to block out the haters or whatever the kids do these days. 

I suppose I looked pathetic. Completely sleep deprived, I sat cocooned in a blanket and hunched over my laptop, watching Netflix. I picked away at a cup of Mr. Noodle that I had nicked after mom had come home from grocery shopping and I tried to follow the plot of the episode of _Buffy_ I was watching. It didn't work too well, my focus was elsewhere.

But you know what, for how shitty I was feeling, I thought I looked damn good.

I felt my phone vibrate against my leg rather harshly. I sighed, lifting my eyes from my episode and set down my cooled noodles. I picked up my phone and saw Jean's unknown number flash on the screen. My thumb hovered over the accept button for just a second before I hit decline and threw the device over on to the bed.

I didn't have the heart to name him in my phone. I mean, if a contact in my phone didn't have a name, I didn't have to feel guilty about declining their calls right? So what if I had all but memorized these ten digits that kept calling me. They were just numbers.

As much as I loved my ring tone, after having my moping interrupted by the first few bars of it again and again, I became irritable. This lead me to just turn my phone on to vibrate.

To be honest, I felt like a total asshole for flat out ignoring his calls but I didn't have anything to say to him. I didn't want to apologize, I didn't feel like I was in the wrong. But I also didn't want to yell at him because really, he wasn't in the wrong to act the way he did either.

I mean, Jesus, he wasn't even acting like anything. He was just smoking.

God, this was confusing, was it too late to be reborn as a dragon?

Everything was just a giant mess. I couldn't focus and I felt like complete and utter shit. Which to be completely honest was extraordinarily irritating since I genuinely wanted to watch this show. But like how all horrible things start, it seemed that my brain was on too high of an alert to let me do that. My head was spinning with dozens of questions and before I could even think to come up with an answer to them, more questions would jump into my head.

Was he feeling the same way I was? Almost like he had just been ran over by a train but only his insides had received the blows? Did he know about my amputation now? Had Connie or Sasha spilled the beans about, well, everything? Was he sorry for me? Sorry about me? Was he going to pity me now or was he going to hate me?

Whichever way he felt, I guess he had every right to.

Mom was, to put it nicely, worried about me again. Even though I had been visibly upset, I, of course had decided not to tell her what had happened last night because to be honest, I had little to no idea what had happened either.

Jean smoked, so what? It shouldn't matter. I had completely flipped out at him for no reason and God knows what he thought of me now. It was just a cigarette. Maybe he didn't even smoke that often, maybe he did, what did it matter?

Maybe it was the fact that he enjoyed smoking cancer sticks that irked me.

I was taking all this too personally. I knew that and I felt guilty for feeling that way. I hated having all this sadness and anger toward my friend but God damn it, how was I not supposed to feel like it was personally linked to me?

I had never had a problem with people smoking before. Sure, it had bugged me but I had never lashed out like that before.

What was wrong with me?

Jean didn't know about the fact that I had cancer because I hadn't told him. Smoking wasn't even linked to Osteosarcoma, well not in any cases I had heard of.

I had made the choice not to tell him and maybe that had been a mistake. After all, there was no logical reason as to why this should bug me as much as it was.

My family had sheltered me from smoking after my arm had been amputated. Well, they had sheltered me from a lot of things actually that would have set me off, but that is besides the point. I was sixteen when I lost my arm. I wasn't stupid. People in my grade had been smoking while I lay bedridden in a hospital that year. Yes, I knew people smoked but I guess I had never really put two and two together. I hadn't realized that some people just smoke because -to put it simply- they can. I was going to be nineteen this year and the idea that some people enjoyed smoking and they didn't care about the effects of it was still a foreign concept to me. It shocked me.

They hadn't been through what I had, I had to keep reminding myself that.

They enjoyed smoking though and _that_ was what made me feel uneasy.

I didn't understand. People were choosing to roll the dice and prayed it didn't land cancer side up. Seriously, maybe it wasn't me that didn't understand. They were the ones who didn't know what kind of things they were going to put themselves through.

Having cancer is like walking through hell and back barefoot.

No matter how much I disliked a person, I would never wish that on anyone. And like hell, I would ever wish it on Jean.

Needless to say, I had no energy or any willpower to face that and go to Jean's. If I wasn't up for talking to him over the phone, I definitely wasn't up for sitting awkwardly around his house discussing India's politics while these thoughts were stuck in my head.

He was probably angry with me for ditching him after I had promised to do our project at his place today. I briefly imagined picking up the phone and hearing him say: _Yeah, sorry I made you flip out yesterday but like what about this paper bro?_

Okay, so maybe in my head I was giving him a mean streak that wasn't there in real life. He was rude sure but was he genuinely mean? I hoped not. Either way, knowing I was ditching him made me feel awful but like I had mentioned, I just couldn't find the willpower in myself to go. I wanted to see him but I just couldn't face him.

My God, I was such a shitty friend.

I just couldn't face being wrong and unjustified to feel the way I did.

 

* * *

 

 

To be completely honest, I spent the rest of the day mulling over my conflicted feelings. It was stupid and made me feel lame but I did it anyway. At the end of the day, Jean stopped calling me around nine to leave me a voice mail to commemorate his defeat.

“ _Uh hey Marco,”_ He took in an audible deep breath and paused to collect whatever thoughts he was having. I followed his lead and took in my own large gulp of air as I waited for him to speak again. Don't get me wrong, hearing his voice was strangely relieving. Though, seconds later when he did speak again I could hear the audible strain in his voice and my relief was immediately exhausted by guilt. _“Yeah it's funny, I've been calling you all day but like, when I decide to leave a message I have no fucking clue what to say. Uh yeah. I just,”_ He paused again _. “Look, Marco, I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Connie and Sasha- wait, no, shit, dude- that doesn't matter. I'm sorry alright? I need to know that you're okay, man. I understand if you don't want to talk to me right now but God, I'm sorry.”_

The recording ended.

I played it back, once, twice and then a third time. It was good and all to hear his voice while it wasn't angry with me, but I really didn't know how was supposed to feel. I was still confused but I was relieved too. I was mad, but at myself. Worst of all I still felt guilty.

I should have picked up my phone and talked this out. I shouldn't have ignored him.

I felt drunk, numb and stunned, like I had just received an electric shock.

I was pissed, yes, but I was also confused and worried about him. He had been calling me all day because he was sorry and he was worried. I had been too, I but had I put in the effort to call him tell _him_ that?

Nope.

I had to get my head out of my ass and call him back. I'd probably put him through shit today. Hell, I'd put myself through shit today. And for what? My pride?

I'm an idiot but hey, this idiot was finally going to call Jean.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Marco.”

No hello, or hey or even a hi, just my name. His voice sounded dry and almost flaky but it also sounded really, and truthfully relieved. Honestly, I was surprised at how happy that made me.

I swallowed. “Hey.”

“I don't know what to say.” he said bluntly.

I snorted out a laugh that sounded more like a cough as it ripped roughly from my throat. “Me either.”

It took him a second but he laughed too. Not a happy laugh, or a sarcastic laugh, just a Jean laugh. A nice, pure, obnoxious sound. I heard ruffling in the background, like he was digging though paper and drawers. He hummed lowly and the ruffling stopped. He sighed and spoke again, “Jesus Christ Marco, I was so worried about you.” he mused.

I felt a pang of guilt in my chest and I sighed along with him.“I know.”

As if sensing my mood shift, his tone changed from serious to light in a matter of milliseconds.“Good God man, don't you know how to pick up a goddamn phone?” He scolded gently, as if the conversation could break apart within a matter of one wrong word.

I clicked my tongue to the roof of my mouth and broke into a small smile, deciding to go along with it. “Yeah, I'm an asshole.”

“God, no kidding.”

There was a brief silence before we both broke into laughter, actual full blown laughter.

Hearing his laugh made me feel better. Everything was going to be okay. We had both been wrong but we were going to be okay.

“Are you okay?” he asked me as our laughter died down into giggles.

“Mhmm, I am.” I hummed, laying back on the mattress and closing my eyes. “What about you?”

“I feel like crap.” he told me.

“Hmm?”

“I made you feel like crap too, didn't I?”

I closed my eyes and imagined him feeling the same way I had. Confused and alone and angry. I didn't want to blame for that. My feelings were no one's fault but my own.

“Not really, Jean it's... complicated?”

His tone became frantic. “Marco you can tell me things. We're friends and-”

“Jean.”

“I just don't know why you would want to keep this a secret. It doesn't matter if-”

I cut him off before he could finish the deadly sentence. “Jean, look, are you busy tomorrow? I want to talk about this but I can't over the phone. I can't, I'm sorry. I'll tell you everything, just not right now. I'm not ready.”

He paused. “Okay, yeah. Whatever you need Marco.”

“Thank you.” I mumbled.

He continued to carry on the conversation for the both of us. “I'm free after lunch tomorrow. You can maybe bring your stuff to work on the paper, and if you want you can stay and have dinner with us. I mean only _if_ you want. It's just going to be me, my sister and my mom. We're having casserole, I think? Anna was working on it all day today.” There was a pause when he realized he was rambling. When he noticed that I wasn't replying right away, he coughed into the receiver and spoke, sounding timid. “Right, so uh, do you still have my address?”

I nodded into the phone receiver. “Yeah, I think it's in my Politics notebook.”

“Um, okay, yeah good. I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sounds cool.”

There was a silence on his end for a fraction of a second. “Promise?” he asked softly.

I paused, was there really any guarantee that I wouldn't freak out and back down from our plans again? No, not really. I sighed and took a deep breath. Then, I let my brain say the exact opposite of my conflicted thoughts. “Yeah,” I heard myself say as if I was miles away from being in control of my mouth. “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

Oh dear God, upon the highest heavens, what the hell was I doing?

Slay me Lord, please, just slay me. This will be my last request. Hit me with a lightning bolt or sweep me up in a tornado to Oz. Whatever you want, I don't even care anymore, just please get me out of this promise. I do not want to deal with this. I'm not ready. Help me.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” Mom asked, laying a gentle hand over my knee. “You look white as a ghost. This is the right address isn't it?”

Okay, so apparently there was not going to be any divine intervention for me today.

I swallowed and nodded vigorously. “Uh, yeah. I mean, at least, I think this is it. It's what he told me to write down.”

Mom did a once over of the small house that was supposedly Jean's. It wasn't a bad looking house, just roomy. A one story house that was in fact, tacky, tasteless, and flat out goddamn bright yellow. Slowly, mom pursed her lips together as if she was actually debating letting me get out of our crap-bucket car and go in.

To be honest, I wouldn't hold it against her if she didn't. In fact, I would have quite liked that. Perhaps this was going to be my divine intervention.

“Alright,” she drawled out painfully slowly as she drew her hand back from my knee to place it on the steering wheel. “just call me when you're done your project and tell me if I need to pick you up or not..”

Nope, no I was right. The answer from God is still a no.

“Yeah, I will.” I answered, gathering up my bag from beneath my feet. I twisted and turned uncomfortably in the seat while I awkwardly tried to undo my seat belt due to the giant, overflowing backpack that I had put in my way.

“I don't mind you staying late but remember Marco, it's a school night.” she reminded me.

“I know.” I replied earnestly as my hand lay impatiently on the mental door handle, ready to pry the door open and just get this shit storm over with.

“I love you Marco.” she told me immediately as I took one step out of the car like a prerecorded message that I had heard thirty thousand times before.

Steadying myself on the concrete ground in front of Jean's house, I shut the door and ducked through the open window to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you too.”

“You can stay out late but curfew is still eleven-thirty.” she told me seriously.

I grinned through the anxiety. “And break my record of always getting home an hour before eleven? I wouldn't dare.” I joked weakly.

She rolled her eyes, temporarily amused. A small smile graced her lips as she pushed a strand of short hair back behind her ear, locking her eyes on mine. “Be a good boy Marco.” she said, her voice keeping it's relatively quiet tone.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously? I will. Don't worry.” I scoffed, noticing that this conversation was verging on the edge of annoying.

“Eleven-thirty.”she repeated, her voice set in stone.

I sighed. I really did not want to repeat the conversation we had literally just had thirty seconds ago. “Mom I _know._ ”

“I know you know, I just-” she started, her voice beginning to rise.

“Eleven-thirty. I will call you. I love you. G _oodbye_ mom.” I said, irritation itching into my voice without me noticing it which ended the discussion. I sighed again and I pulled myself up from the open window with a gentle push.

She deflated like a balloon in her seat. “Okay.”

I didn't say anything more and neither did she, there was just a long silence between the two of us as she started to the car back up.

Yes, I felt more than a little bit guilty as I watched the crappy car putter back down the street the way we had originally came but as soon as the feeling crept up on me I did my best to shake myself out of it.

I was already feeling guilty about Jean, I did _not_ need to add more guilt trips to my tab right now. I was already in guilt debt.

I took in a long, deep breath. Now that that level was over, I guess it was time to fight the boss.

With one foot following the other and the words _“It's dangerous to go alone”_ echoing inside my brain, I somehow found myself feeling small on Jean's doorstep.

I looked down at the woven _WELCOME_ doormat. Was this really where Jean lived? It was homey but dear God, it was tacky. Not really his style, you know?

I glared down silently at my feet. Great. Okay. First step, actually manage to show up. Guess I can check that off my to do list. But now that I'm here, what do I do?

I lifted my gaze from my old DC sneakers and opted to stare at Jean's door like it was something I had never seen before. To be fair, it didn't look like a door that you would find on a regular house either. It actually looked more or less like the entrance into a hobbit hole. A big, wide, oak, oval shaped door that didn't quite match the lemon yellow of the house it was resting on.

It was a weird architectural design.

The house was a friendly looking, dome shaped, bright yellow, little house, -that had at least three different shades of yellow clumsily painted on the same wall mind you- with red framed and slightly tilted to the left windows. An array of beautiful, wilting plants and bushes were planted in rows on either side of the off white porch I was standing on. Their dried out leaves blew softly in the chilly breeze, their colors vacant but still hinted in the remaining thin petals that were still clutching on to the plant. They were beautiful, but in an odd way they were somehow the last thing and the first thing that reminded me of Jean. This house, every single part of it was had come straight out of a fairy tale.

It was a house that actually looked like it was designed for hobbits that lived down in Middle Earth.

The architect was probably some _Lord of The Rings_ nerd. It might have been me in a past life, who knows. I mean, I didn't think it was possible for someone other than me to come up with a design that was this tacky but I guess someone else in the world had my thought progress. That's new.

Going on a long journey full of peril and bringing the ring to Mordor while also trying to channel the spirit of my architectural soul mate aside, seriously what now?

Do I ring the doorbell? Knock on the door? Kick the door down? Do a rain dance so Jean's family lets me in? What do you want from me O house from Middle Earth?

I ended up just ringing the door bell. Don't get me wrong, it would have been fun to do a rain dance or whatever but I figured that this was more classy and made me look less like a one armed nut job.

I was surprised at how relieved I was that it was in fact not Jean who opened the door.

A tall, somewhat plump woman with graying blonde hair wearing a baggy sweater and yoga pants opened the door with a huge smile falling across her oddly pretty aging face. The word mother seemed to just describe this woman _perfectly_. There was something about her that just made me look at her and just immediately assume her to be a good mom, one that would make you pancakes after a rough day. Maybe it was her smile or maybe her laughter lines that graced her face but either way she looked flat out motherly.

“Marco!” the woman exclaimed eagerly completely cutting out an introduction as she reached out and shook my only hand. “I'm Réne, Jean's mom. It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Jean has told us so much about you! Come in come in, come in.” she said happily as she ushered me quickly into the house.

I looked around what I could see of Jean's house from the doorway while Réne showed me where I should leave my shoes.

The house was what someone could describe as pleasantly mismatched. Lace covered most of the surfaces, floral patterned wall paper coated the walls and brightly colored carpets lay on the vast majority of the floor. From where I stood, I counted six different ceramic kittens and five placards, each littered with a different inspirational quote . What caught my interest the most though was the ever so faint sound of _AC/DC_ blaring from a room behind a closed door down the hall.

That just about pinpointed where Jean was.

I was suddenly nervous all over again.

“Uh hi.” I offered weakly as I looked up at Jean's mother, realizing that I hadn't yet said a word to her.

The nervous feeling didn't last long though, due to the distraction of another voice filling my ears.“Is that Jean's Marco?” came the voice from the next room over.

Bare foot, tank topped and pajama bottomed, in bounced another younger blonde woman, probably in her early twenties who, if I wasn't gay, would totally render me speechless because holy crap she was grade A Hollywood type beautiful.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered Jean mentioning something about his sister being in town and staying at his and his mother's place. Since I had _Sherlock Holmes_ level detection skills, this lead me to believe that this was in fact the sister he spoke of.

“Hey there dude,” she said reaching out her hand to grab mine just like her mother had with a warm smile on her face as well. “I'm Anna.”

I returned her handshake with another smile. “Marco.” I replied.

“Jean's in his room, last room down the hall to the left and beside the bathroom. I can take your coat Marco dear. Do you want a snack? A drink? Anything for you and Jean-bo?” Jean's mom Réne inquired, taking my coat off from my shoulders like I was at a fancy restaurant.

Also Jean-bo?

“Oh, no. No thank you.” I replied. “Jean and I really should get working on our project. So it's uh, last door to the left?”

“That's right Marco dear.” Réne told me over her shoulder as she hung up my coat in a small closet near the door.

“Okay, um, cool, thanks.” I replied as I gently nudged my shoes into alignment with the already existent assembly line of boots that I assumed belonged to Anna.

“Hey, come on. If you're scared you'll get lost down a straight hallway of doors, I can show you to Jean.” Anna stated, a small laugh leaving her lips as she bounced slightly on the spot like she was just off of a coffee high.

I nodded dumbly and let her take the lead. I was really beginning to wonder where Jean got his grouchiness from if this was how happy his family was but whatever, I can't really be a hypocrite.

The walk to Jean's room felt like an eternity, a slow and painful eternity. Anna was saying something but I was no where close to listening, my brain was way too focused how out of this world anxious I was.

“-and can you tell Jean I'm taking Schrödinger out for a walk?”

“Who?” I asked zoning back into the conversation.

Anna laughed as we came to a stop in front of the white door that was leaking the heavy metal screams of an angsty band that I fortunately did not know into the hallway.

It truthfully sounded like a train hitting a cat.

“Jean's dog. Oh and please tell him to turn that crap down?” Anna answered twisting the door knob for me to let me into the room. “'S giving me a headache.”

I nodded and stepped into the painfully white room that held nothing but a beat up stereo, a -what I assumed to be Jean's- typewriter laying on a desk, a twin size bed, a bookshelf and clothes and books piled up all over the floor. It surprised me slightly. Knowing Jean I expected something more, I don't know, elaborate I guess? Anything but this really, something that wasn't plain.

Something more Jean.

On the tiny bed lay a lump of sweater and sweatpants that sort of had a resemblance to a sickly Jean laying face down on some pillows. Beside the lump of Jean lay a giant collie dog that lifted it's massive head to get a look at me to see if I was anyone interesting. It decided in no time at all that I wasn't worth a fuss and laid it's head back down against Jean.

Anna whistled lowly and the dog perked it's head up again, definitely more attentively this time. Anna hit her thigh lightly to call it again. With one look back at Jean, it stood, stretched and jumped off the bed to follow Anna out the door. She left it open and backtracked her way back down the hallway.

“Schrödinger, come baaaack.” Jean whined as his hand slammed down on the pause button on his stereo not seeming to notice that the dog or his sister had already left. “Anna, can't you leave us alone? I already told you I don't want lunch,” the lump whined again pitifully. “it's like ten.”

“It's actually two-thirty.” Taking this as my cue to pipe up.

Jean shot up from his laying position, nearly knocking himself of the bed and on to the floor. “Marco!” he exclaimed as he regained his balance.

“Polo.” I replied.

God, I'm a dweeb.

“Uh, hey.” Jean replied as he stood to go and check to see if the Anna had closed the door. He found it without any struggle and sighed like he had been more annoyed than anything that it had been left open. He shut promptly it rather loudly before he back came to stand in front in me. He laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit, I, uh didn't notice how late it was.”

“Yeah, sorry that's my fault. I should have called saying I was coming over.” I said, averting my eyes from him and focusing back on the floor instead.

“No, no, that's fine, it's totally fine...”

And here came the awkward silence that I had been dreading.

After a minute of standing there in a weird and uncomfortable silence while I watched him twiddle his thumbs, I coughed like I had something caught in my throat. “Right, so um-”

“Um, Marco, can we not dance around this?” he asked forwardly as he shifted back and fourth on his feet, biting his lip nervously.

“You mean doing the project? Yeah sure let's-”

“Marco.” he said sternly. “You _know_ that's not what I meant.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“If it makes it any easier, Connie told me about your arm. You don't have to hide it anymore.”

No. That really didn't make anything easier. At all. “Hmm.” I hummed.

You know, what I don't get is why you didn't just tell me.” he said sitting back down on the bed. “I mean, I had assumptions but I just don't get it.”

“It's not really something that's to easy bring up.” I insisted. “You don't exactly want to start off a friendship with 'hey guess what I had my arm amputated because I had cancer.'”

Jean pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at me. “Okay, granted.”

“I was just so sick of people looking at me like I'm some sort of freak and then you came along and you can't make assumptions about me because you can't actually see what's wrong with me-”

“Marco, that's exactly my point. I'm blind. You'd think I of all people would get where you're coming from and what you're going through.”

“But you're blind, you aren't an amputee. You wouldn't get it. You would have just assumed-” I persisted.

“And yet you're not blind and you make assumptions about me.”

I opened my mouth to speak but only a strangled whine came out.

Thanks for the reality check Jean.

Jean's voice softened and he reached out to grab my hand to pull me down to sit beside him. To my surprise, he didn't let go. Instead. he squeezed my hand tightly and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.“But that doesn't matter. Not to me. Marco, dude, trust me when I tell you that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

“But I lied to you, I blew up at you, I look stupid and I can't even wear a stupid prosthetic because I have stupid nerve damage and-”

Jean took his other hand and wrapped it around our already intertwined hands. He pursed his lips slowly and spoke softly, “You didn't lie. You were scared I would treat you different if I knew.”

I squeezed his hand and laid my head on his shoulder. I shut my eyes, not wanting to hear the answer to my next question. “Will you?” I mumbled.

“Jesus, no.”

“Thank God.” I breathed.

“You're still Marco and I'm not going to stop liking you because you have one less arm than me.” he reassured me. “I mean do you not like me because your eyes can see better than mine?”

“No!” I exclaimed, raising my head in alarm.

“See?” he said squeezing my hand again. “We're fine.”

“That's good to hear.”

He nodded. “Yeah, hey Marco,” he started as let go of my hand with one of his hands and reached over to his desk to pick up the same rectangular package that had sent me off my rocker on Friday, his body twisting in a weird position so that he wouldn't let go of my hand. I took in a shaky breath and Jean reassuringly squeezed my hand harder. “I'm not good at this kind of thing, so tell me if this is inappropriate, okay?” he said waiting for me to steady myself mentally before he started to speak again. “I want you to have these.” He continued as he unlaced his fingers from mine and placed the package into my hand. I looked up at him in wide eyed shock and terror, like the cigarette box that he had just placed in my hand was something unspeakably dangerous.

Well, you know, something genuinely dangerous. Like a light stick of dynamite, an unpinned grenade, or a vision of my sister in five years.

I didn't feel like I was in control of my body anymore. Everything was numb in tension and fear. I felt millions of miles away from Jean, from the cigarettes, from everything, but none the less, heard my voice tumble out of my mouth with a tremble of raw fear without my brain's consent. “J-J-Jean, I-I don't understand.”

He spoke gently and calmly with a kind of patience I didn't know he possessed. “Hey, hey, Marco it's okay. I just want to ask you if you could hang on to them for me.”

I stared at him in astonishment. “W-why?”

“I don't want to hurt you like that again.”

Just by him saying those nine words, I suddenly felt like I was scuba diving without oxygen tank. “J-Jean-” I stammered.

“You're my friend Marco. I've put a lot of thought into this and I want you to hang on to them for me if you're okay with it. I don't know if I'm going to quit just yet but I want you to keep them for me until I make that decision. I've been smoking for, well longer than someone who's seventeen should have and to be honest, it's going to be a hard habit to break.” He paused, waiting for me to interrupt him but when I didn't, he took my silence as confirmation to continue. “That said, I know smoking hits a sore spot with you and you -our friendship- is important to me so, I really think I should at least _try_ to give it up. You should know Marco, I'm not a strong willed person. I mean, how do you think I started smoking in the first place? If I could change that about myself, I would but I can't. I'm sorry about that but I can do this with your help, I know I can.”

I stared down at the package in my hands, hesitating before saying anything back to him. He looked so open and earnest, an expression that I'd never seen on his face before. I swallowed a lump in my throat and slowly closed my fingers around the packet. Was his speech supposed to make me feel better because it really didn't. It felt written down and rehearsed and worst of all I felt like I had put him through shit for this stupid thing and was now forcing him to give smoking up because I disliked it.

Man, I'm horrible.

“You know,” I said slowly. “I don't have anything against smoking. Well, I do so that's a lie but usually I would have never acted like that. You don't have to do this, seriously I overreacted. If this is something that you do, I'm just going to have to get over it.”

Jean's expression transformed from earnest to stern and serious as he spoke next. “No, because if I saw you drinking and driving -if that was one of your quirks Marco- I would have reacted the same way as you did.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “Drinking and driving?” I asked, the question in my voice giving it away that I was obviously confused.

Jean sighed and wrung his hands as he took a deep breath and said, “I wasn't born blind, you know that right?”

“N-no, I didn't.” I replied honestly. “We've never talked about it.”

Jean regarded me sternly once more, with a grave expression painting every single feature on his face. “Well, I wasn't. Just after I had turned fifteen, my brother, my dad and I were coming home from a concert that Jacob -my brother- had dragged us to and our car got hit dead on by some guy who had drunk one too many beers.”

“That's.. awful.” I replied slowly.

“Kind of.” Jean said shrugging like the story didn't phase him anymore. “To be honest, my dad wasn't really paying attention either, I guess he had waited too long to go on a green light. Man, he was so pissed at me that night. So much so that he made eighteen year old Jake sit in the backseat and sat me in the front so we could yell at each other without yelling over Jake. All I really remember was him screaming at me for going out and putting all of this metal in my face without his or my mom's permission, but hey what can I say, that was the kind of shitty thing fifteen year old me did to see if I could get a rise out of the old guy. Anyway, one second I was yelling at him the next second, boom, hit, Jean doesn't have his sight anymore.” Jean said making an explosion gesture with his hands. “That was the last conversation he and I ever had.”

My eyes widened. “Oh god did he-”

Jean snorted out a laugh and rolled his eyes dramatically as if me suggesting the death of his father was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. “Jesus no. Last time I checked he was in Cuba. He left my mom while I was still in the hospital, didn't even have the decency to say goodbye.”

“Jesus Christ Jean that's-”

“No, seriously Marco, it's okay. He was a motherfucking asshole. He was cheating on my mom and she knew but she loved him anyway. Mom cried for _months_ after he sent her the divorce papers. She really loved him and he really didn't give a shit about her or me or any of us. I'm _glad_ he left. We're better off without him.” Jean replied, cutting me off, sounding dead set and certain of his words.

I set the cigarette box down gently, letting it lie propped up against my thigh and I cautiously took his hand again. I was kind of surprised at how open he was being with me.“It's still terrible though.”I mumbled.

Jean laced his fingers with mine and spoke again, not sounding nearly as stern, just far away. “I guess. The pain numbs itself out after a while. Anyway, as for me and my eyes, since my dad had just left, the surgery to get my sight back was super expensive and it was far off from being covered by our insurance. Not to mention Jake and Anna were starting college that spring so it really came down to me getting my sight back and my two older siblings not getting to go to their dream colleges and my mom having to work an extra job or me staying blind and crossing my fingers that one day we do get the money.” Jean sighed. “I wanted my sight back, God I still want it so badly and I absolutely _hate_ not being able to see but my family had to come first.”

“I know how you feel. I'd do anything for my arm back.” I stated honestly. "But I guess, I'm just used to it now."

“What kind of cancer did you have?” Jean asked me gently.

“Osteosarcoma.” I said just after realizing that he probably didn't know what that meant. “Bone cancer.” I clarified.

“Was it painful?”

“Yeah. I cried a lot. So did my mom. I think she was more scared than I was, I mean, we had just lost my dad.”

“ _Your_ dad?”

“Afghanistan.” I said softly. “Half a year before I was diagnosed.”

“That's.. Oh my god, that's just, wow. That's shitty man.”

“Yeah. It was hard. Mom was always crying, Alicia didn't really understand what was going on though, which I guess was good. Then all of the sudden without enough time for a grief period, there was this painful bump on my arm and the doctors told me I had cancer. Sixty-percent chance of living. I was scared and I was completely terrified at the thought of dying. Before I knew it I had lost an arm, all my hair and I had lost a complete year of school so I had to repeat tenth grade. I was always tired and sad but I think it was actually during my recovery when I was getting back into the swing of things that I realized nothing was ever going to be the same and that I kind of hated myself.”

Jean didn't say anything. Because really, was there really anything left to say? Slowly, he spoke again. “You know, for a while, I thought about taking my piercings out. For a long time, I thought of them as the reason I lost my sight and my dad. I hated the fact that me doing something so dumb like putting studs in my face could have impacted such a big part of my life. If I had of waited until I was eighteen until I got them done like my parents had wanted, would I still be able to see now? Maybe. There's definitely a chance. Maybe my dad would have been paying attention to the road, but that doesn't change the fact that we were hit because someone else had made the stupid decision to drink and drive.” He swallowed thickly. “Loosing my sight was an accident Marco, it was a mixture of bad decisions, one that I could have controlled and one that I couldn't, but I guess that's why I decided to keep the piercings in. I know I shouldn't care about the way I look, but I do. When I get my sight back, I want to look exactly the way I did when I lost my sight so I can let go of the guilt of knowing that me loosing my sight was partly my own fault. I want to forgive myself for the way I was and stop hating myself for a fluke.” He paused. “I know my situation isn't the same as yours. Our lives, they're two different sob stories. We picked the short straws of life, Marco. That's just how it happened. You had cancer and I lost my eyesight, that's just how our lives played out. Did we deserve it? God, no. It hurts to be different sometimes, to have lived through different things than the people around us have because they don't understand us completely, how could they? It's okay to not like yourself because of your situation as long as you know and have people around you that love you despite that and help you to come around to loving yourself again.”

I blinked at him in astonishment, “You care a lot more than you let on.” I mused.

Jean snorted, loudly. “Ouch, I'm wounded Marco.”

I could feel the corners my lips twitching into a small smile. “But I'm glad you do,” I told him. “it means a lot to me.”

“We're friends.” he reassured me, like it answered my statement. “Bros before problematic and harshly traumatic issues that the both of had in our early teens.”

I nudged him lightly with my shoulder, laughing quietly. “So the piercings have a metaphorical meaning, what about your tacky jacket that you're ever so attached to?”

Jean rolled his eyes and let go of my hand and shoved me as hard as he could off of the bed in one fluid motion. I wobbled, loosing my balance and fell off the mattress. I let out a surprised squawk and fell totally and completely ungracefully. My butt hit the wood floor with a loud thump and Jean burst out into a fit of laughter. I groaned. “Serves you right. I like that jacket, you dork.” Jean rasped between shaky laughter.

I flicked his knee as I regained my sense of balance on the wood floor by pulling my knees into my chest. “Yeah, well that doesn't make it any less tacky.” I retorted, trying not to smile as I let him laugh. I mean hey, it was a nice sound.

“It is so not tacky.”Jean persisted, trying to sound grumpy but his grin was giving him away.

Instead of getting up from the cold floor, I rested my arm over his knees and lay my head on my arm. “Is too.” I replied stubbornly as I looked up at him, my eyes crinkled in amusement.

“You just can't see my great fashion sense. It'll catch on one day, you'll see.” he boasted proudly.

“Yeah, well I don't think you can _see_ it either.

Jean snorted again which sounded a lot like a half-assed imitation of a horse. “Below the belt.” he insisted as he leaned back on the mattress so that he was leaning on his palms. “Hey, Marco?” he asked poking my forehead.

“Yeah, what?” I asked swatting his hand away.

He continued to poke me aimlessly. “Did you knows that a good potion of the population in India are Hindu?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “We're talking about our paper now?”

Jean poked me particularly hard right above my right eye. “Yes, doofus.”

I scrunched up my nose making a distasteful face at him.“Well, then, no I did not know that. Should I grab my laptop to start writing this down?”

“Nah.” Jean shrugged. “I just thought that it was cool that Hinduism and Buddhism are two of the only major religions of the world that believe in reincarnation.”

“Are they?” I asked, leaning my head back down on to my arm and speaking the words only half interested into my forearm.

“Yeah. You know, even though my mom isn't religious, she believes in it too.” Jean stopped momentarily poking me as he thought about the statement. “Well, in a way.” he finished.

My interest perked slightly and I raised my head to get a better look at him. “Really?”

“Mm.” Jean answered. “She's always told me since I was little that people's spirits come back after their body dies and that they keep coming back until the spirit finally gets life right.”

“I've never thought that to be a possibility before.” I answered, sitting up straight and crossing my legs, completely loosing physical contact with him. “It's a neat idea.”

“Yeah, it's a nice story, believing that everyone gets a second chance.” Jean answered. “She also believes in karma,” he pursed his lips. “well again, in a way.”

“Huh?”

“You know, maybe the reason you only have one arm in this life is because you did something awful or something awful happened to you in another life, bad karma or something. Maybe you even lost that same arm in another life and that's why you lost it to cancer in this life. I know that's not how karma works when it comes to religion, but that's how mom interprets it.” Jean replied.

“Really? Huh. What about you then, why don't you have your eyesight?” I pondered.

Jean shrugged like it really didn't bother him either way. “Maybe I saw something really horrible.” He said nonchalantly.

I hummed lowly and rocked back and fourth, thinking what he was saying over. “I guess that makes sense.” I stated. “Hey, Jean?”

“Yeah?”

I chewed on my lip. “Hypothetically, do you think we were friends in this other life?”

Jean's eyebrows scrunched together like thin caterpillars before he smiled lightly and spoke with fondness flowing through every single word . “You know what Marco, I really think we were.”

I grinned. “That's awesome. I don't think I'd like to live in a world without you.”

“I think living in a world without you in it would be rather sad.” Jean reaffirmed.

I let out an unattractive laugh at the mental picture forming in my mind. “My God, I don't even want to think about how grumpy and mopey would you be without me.”

“I would in fact be very grumpy Freckled Jesus, very grumpy.” Jean teased back.

I swallowed and tugged on his pant leg. “So, Jean,” I started thoughtfully loosing all of the humor to our previous banter. “we _are_ good right?”

“Don't be stupid, of course we are.” he replied instantaneously, ruffling my hair with one hand while the other remained on the bed, keeping him upright.

I nudged his hand with my head. His hand in my hair felt nice. Nice enough to remind me that hey, yes, Marco, you do still have a crush on him. And we _HAD_ been holding hands earlier so I guess that -and this- was okay as long as I didn't tell him. So for now, I was damn well going to enjoy him being sweet even though I was blushing so hard I felt like I was getting a sunburn. “Good. Oh and Jean?”

“Yes?” he asked, delicately lifting his hand away from my head like he had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar and had been caught in the act.

“Jean-bo, huh?”

Jean groaned and threw himself backward on to the bed, an action full of 100% dramatic Jean flare. “Oh god no. Mom did not call me that to your face, did she?” he moaned.

“She may have.” I replied, mischievously and I shrugged.

Jean glared at me, trying his best to be angry. “We do not speak of that nickname Marco. Nobody has called me that except my mom since I was five.”

“Oh come, on it's adorable.”

Jean flushed, “No, it's not!”

My smile didn't falter for a second. Sitting here with Jean, I felt invincible. The happiness I was feeling right now felt infinite. We're friends. Everything was okay. “Whatever you say Jean-bo.”

Jean kicked me in the knee playfully as he lifted his hand to cover his mouth so he could hide the smile that was taking over his lips.“Oh shut up, Marco Butt.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Marco, read it again.” Jean instructed.

I rolled my eyes to the back of my head and grunted, “Jean, I've read you this section four times now.”

“Yeah, well it's not my fault I don't get it.” Jean whined, leaning back in his desk chair so it was propped up on it's back two legs. Knowing Jean, it was going to fall back at any second.

Our method of writing the paper had started with us both doing research and arguing about what we both thought should put in it. After we realized that this method was getting us no where, we eventually settled with me doing the research as Jean typed up the paper on his typewriter.This also included me telling him exactly what to write and him asking me to repeat myself eight times for each sentence but I didn't really mind, neither of us were taking it too seriously.

“Come on Jean, just paraphrase what I said.” I replied sprawling out on his bed from my upright position to laying down flat on my back so my laptop rested on my stomach instead of my knees.

“You made it sound better.” Jean whined again. “It flowed when you said it, when I write it it sounds like shit.”

“Come on, I believe in you. Caste system, class structure, go, go, go.” I cheered sarcastically, my patience running the slightest bit dry as I secretly opened my facebook page on my browser as he moaned at me.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Jean groaned, letting his chair rest on it's four legs as he finally gave into my request and turned back to the typewriter.

“Hey, Jean.” I said after a moment of silence between us, the only sounds filling the air being the sound of my computer humming and the keys on his typewriter clicking.

“Shh. Working. Don't be a hypocrite.” Jean shushed me, waving a hand limply at me to brush me off.

I rolled my eyes. “I have a question, though.”

“Shh.”

“Oh come on it's not like you _don't_ want a distraction...”

“You're being counterproductive.”

“Now _you're_ being the hypocrite. You know, I finished what I was supposed to do while you insisted on making the ultimate playlist to write a paper to, got distracted by your dog for half and hour and then ate enough lunch to feed six people.”

“I was hungry.”

“You could have ate at noon like a normal person.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, shoot but just so you know, you're totally wrecking my flow here.”

I stared up at the ceiling. My eyes felt betrayed by the lack of color. “So, you use typewriters.”

“Awesome question Marco, gold star.” Jean retorted, turning back to the mechanism that lay on the desk in front of him.

I picked up a braille novel he had left laying beside his bedside table and smacked him harder than I had intended on the arm with it. “Not my point Jean.”

“Ow.” He whined, clutching his arm to shield himself from future assaults. “Marco, you dick, that hurt!”

I hit him again, lighter and repetitively this time, making sure his skin wouldn't actually bruise after impact. “Did not.” I teased. “You're just being a baby.”

“Ugh, fine! You win, no more sass until the question is actually asked!” He exclaimed as he carefully picked up my laptop. I raised my eyebrow unsure of what he was doing as he placed it on his desk beside the typewriter and without a second thought or damage to technology, he tackled me by launching himself onto the bed to get his hands on the book.  “Gimme that you dork!” he growled playfully.

“Nope, nope, nope, it's mine now!” I giggled extending my arm fully so he couldn't reach it.

“Gimme.” He laughed as he climbed clumsily up to sit on my stomach, knees and elbows stabbing into my chest and stomach as he propped himself up. I grunted and winced as he decided to accidentally put one of his knees particularity low.

In my split second wince, he seemed to see I had let my guard down and as he snatched the book up from my hand. He took it, pretended to brush off imaginary dust that lay on the cover, flipped it over in his hands and hit me over the head with it. It wasn't a hard hit, just a playful _haha, I win this time_ kind of gesture. 

He grinned down at me as and I smiled up at him.

He removed the book away from my head and flicked my forehead gently, his grin shifting into a more gentle smile.

I felt a sudden compulsion to brush his hair out of his eyes and find out what his lips tasted like.

We sat like this for a few seconds that felt like a perfect millennium. For just a split second I indulged myself and thought about what it would be like for him to be mine and for me to be his. What it would be like to raise my now shaking hands to hold his waist. To draw circles up and down his back with my fingers. To touch and kiss his pretty face. To close my eyes and feel the warmth of his breath still lingering on my skin as he whispered soft, loving words into my ear. To feel loved for a moment in the way I so desperately wanted from someone, the way I wanted from him. The desire made my head swim in bliss.

The fantasy shattered quickly when Jean decided to clear his throat, as if pulling himself back into reality and get off of me. In a weird twisting of limbs, he tried to push himself upright and ended our physical contact.

I wheezed out a laugh, clutching my stomach as I watched him carelessly roll off the bed and straighten out his clothes and run his hands through his hair, paranoid our struggle had messed it up. I didn't feel empty, knowing that the fantasy was over, I felt full and happy that he was here with me now, sending me a goofy smile. If this was all I could ever have from him, so be it. I'd rather have a part of him than none of him at all.

Jean brought me once again out of my reverie and stuck his tongue out at me as he sat back in his chair and tucked the book in one of his desk drawers out of my reach with a smug look on his face. I laughed again.

Yeah, I liked the relationship we had right here and right now. I liked him, God I liked him a lot but you know what? Our friendship is important too and I wasn't ready to almost wreck that again.

“Marco?” Jean said, breaking the train of though.

“Mm?” I hummed questioningly.

“You still have that question for me, bud?”

“Oh! Right, typewriters. Isn't there some kind of more modern technology you could use? A typewriter seems kind of old fashioned.” I said, propping myself up onto my elbow.

Jean merely shrugged. “Probably, I really just use it because I like the clicking noise.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. We didn't finish the paper but Jean insisted that it was okay and no reason to freak out and said I could come back over tomorrow after school so we could finish it. I had eagerly agreed. 

Jean had also insisted that I stay for dinner because apparently I had 'promised' I would and also told his family I was staying. I didn't recall doing so, but I let him drag me over to the table and sat me down beside him.

Dinner mostly consisted of Anna and René asking me questions about myself while Jean fed Schrodinger the parts of his meal that he didn't like under the table.

He was impossible.

“Why is your dog named Schrödinger anyway?” I had asked Jean as we helped clear the table when the meal had ended.

Jean had shrugged. “Because that's what we named him.”

“Didn't Schrödinger do that experiment on a cat though?”

“Yep.”

I came to the conclusion that Jean had named his dog Schrodinger simply because he didn't give a fuck.

I left shortly after dinner, my mom came half an hour before the time I had told her to, which was typical mom behavior.

“Thank you for dinner Mrs. Kirschtein.” I said as I pulled my coat over my shoulders.

“Oh no Marco, dear, it was a pleasure having you, even if Jean kept you cooped up in that room of his all day.”

“Moooom.” Jean whined who was leaning against the hallway closet doors, making it seem like his mother was embarrassing him. “Stop crowding the poor guy.”

I laughed and turned to him. “Well, I should go, I don't want mom to wait too long. Thanks for having me, I'll see you tomorrow Jean.” I said opening the front door to let myself out.

Jean's mother said goodbye, but Jean lingered in the hallway. Carefully, he held out his balled fist and dropped the package of cigarettes into my hand. “Keep them for me?” he asked.

“Of course.” I answered taking them and stuffing them into my coat pocket so my mom wouldn't see them in my possession. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Text me, okay?”

I blushed. I wasn't even sure why I was getting flustered. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

Jean smiled sheepishly as I stepped out on the front porch, “Bye, Marco Butt.”

“Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow Jean-bo.”

Jean rolled his eyes and shut the door with a done wave over his shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smirking just as the door closed, eyes twinkling in amusement. Cutie.

I laughed at the closed hobbit door. I heard Jean laughing behind it too. 

When I got in the car mom bombarded me with questions on how the day went like she had when I was four after my first play date. It didn't bug me though, so I answered all of her questions calmly and with a smile.

I turned my head back to the house as mom rambled on about something I couldn't quite bring myself to care about. We pulled out of Jean's lane way and I closed my eyes and rested my head against the window.

On the way home, I didn't think about sad things or how horrible I was. I took in a deep breath and smiled as I thought of Jean.

I was a sad person, but for right now, right here with thoughts of today, I was really happy and that's what I wanted to think about.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the chapter delay but I really hope you guys liked it. As always, you can find me on tumblr at makohar-eau.tumblr.com and ask me questions or talk me up, I love hearing from you guys.  
> Have a nice Valentine's Day (or whatever day you're reading this )  
> Thanks for reading,  
> -Khaiyo


	5. Telling You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly Shenanigans.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised this chapter would be up sooner but yeah, it wasn't and I don't have an excuse. I pulled a lot of all nighters for this one in the past week though.  
> I hope you like it anyway, it's late and I need some sleep.

Chapter five:

 

“Marco?” Jean asked, sprawling out on his small bed, arms and legs tangled in his sheets and pillows with his feet dangling off the edge.

“Mhmm?” I hummed melodically, not looking up from my overwrought, last minute typing up of our assignment.

“Do you think penguins have feelings?”

I stopped typing and let my fingers hover over the keyboard. “Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow is Wednesday.” I retorted blandly. “Do you know what that means?”

“You know what day comes after Tuesday?” he questioned tentatively.

“No- well _yes_ \- but Jean-.”

“We have to wear pink tomorrow?” he interjected again.

I rolled my eyes so hard they probably should have stayed stuck at the back of my head. “This is due tomorrow. We are going to _fail._ ” I said reaching up from my spot on his bedroom floor and I flicked his forehead.

“Oh, who cares anyway?” Jean whined, rubbing his forehead and stretching his arms above his head to press them against the headboard. “It's a dumb assignment.”

“Um, I care?”

Jean grunted and rolled over so that his face was nested in the pillow. “I, for one don't,” he said into it, muffling his voice. “but I _do_ think penguins have feelings.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on idiot, work with me.”

“Plus, penguins are reeeeally cute.” he drawled on.

“Jean, you are not helping.”

In response he only leaned over; half off the bed mind you and poked at my cheek; sporting a cheeky grin. “Come on Marco, lighten up buddy.” His poking fingers stopped their prodding as he decided to change tactics and pinched my cheeks and pulled them upwards to force my mouth into a smile. “Tell me they're cute. Tell me, tell me.”

“Ouch! Jean! Get off!” I whined and flailed against him. My laptop fell off my lap with a loud thud as I tried to push him off of my face. Jean hooked my good arm under his elbow, laughed and stuck his tongue out as he felt me trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Okay, okay, you win! Penguins are cute, alright?!” I exclaimed pushing myself as far away from him, picking my laptop back up in the process so I could get back to finishing our crappy assignment.

Jean shifted, forced to let go of his hold on me so that he could move to be laying sideways on his bed; with his legs dangling over one side and his arms wrapped around my neck and chin on top of my head on the other. It was almost like he was trying to look at what I was typing on my laptop. The sudden intimate, innocent contact made me go rigid, I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped that he didn't notice. I had no idea what he was doing or even what he was thinking, it was a dangerous situation; but I really wasn't complaining. He nuzzled his nose into my hair and I could feel his muscles relaxing, I could actually _feel_ him melting into me. God damn it. Shit, damn, fuck me. Okay Jean, you better stop or my mind is going to drift somewhere that is beyond best friend territory. “Damn right they are.” he mumbled in my ear with sheepish confidence.

If this were anyone other than Jean, I'd think they were hitting on me. But sadly, this _was_ Jean and even if Jean were gay he would never want to be with someone like me. Someone who had as many problems and self confidence issues as he did freckles.

Maybe I should come out to him. I mean we've known each other for almost a month now and so far secrets haven't really helped out our relationship. I'm sure he'd be cool with it and I'm sure if he knew he wouldn't be doing all this touching stuff so maybe my coming out would set where we stand on the whole hair ruffling and cheek pinching thing.

Yeah, I should tell him.

But the cheek pinching and poking _is_ kind of sweet...

A man could dream, am I right?

Yeah, I could wait to tell him for a little while. You know, just until I found out where he stood on all of this.

“Hey Marco?” Jean asked worriedly into my ear. “You alright? You've stopped typing and you're zoning out.”

“Mm, yeah. I'm fine. Just thinking.” I answered back, letting myself lean back into him for half a second.

“Whatcha thinking 'bout?” Jean persisted.

“Oh, everything.” I sighed wistfully.

“I'm going to have to ask you to narrow that down a little bit.”

I laughed. “Well, I was thinking,” Okay Marco, time to pull an excuse out of your ass. “why don't we have lunch with everybody tomorrow?”

Hey, that's not even a bad idea. Krista and Ymir are a couple and so are Reiner and Bert. They aren't exactly secretive about their relationships. I could see how Jean acts around them and then decide whether or not to tell him about my own gayness. It was an actual good plan.

Jean groaned. “Marcooooo- ”

Nope, nope nope, he was not allowed to say no to this. I was not going to give up on this plan. Maybe I had come up with it on a whim but it would benefit us both in the long run. “Hey, hey hear me out-”

“Wouldn't it be weird? I mean they barely know me, I'm not a people person and I seriously make the worst first impressions. They'll think I'm a weirdo.”

“It would not be weird; _you_ are not weird. You like Connie, Sasha and me right? And you _know_ Armin, Bertholdt and Reiner and you have French class with Eren. That's seven of us out of eleven. Annie and Mikasa aren't really social when you first meet them so they probably won't even talk to you. Ymir- well she's well a lot like you actually- but if she gives you any trouble Krista and I will be right there.” I insisted.

“I don't like Eren.” Jean muttered sullenly.

“Do you actually know him, Jean?”

“ _No,_ but-”

“Just give him a chance,” I sighed deeply, leaning further back against the bed being pleasantly warmed by Jean's radiating heat. “It's really not my place to say but that boy has seriously been through some messed up shit. He'll grow on you.”

Jean pursed his lips together and wrung his hands together; contemplating this. “Fine, okay, from what I've heard, I'll give him that. But Marco, he's still an asshole.”

“Well, so are you and you grew on me.”

“Hey!” Jean exclaimed shoving my shoulder roughly; only looking mildly offended.

I laughed. “Oh, lighten up Jean. First impressions aren't everything.”

“They'd better not be.” Jean scowled, shoving me once more for good measure. “I really don't like that guy Marco. Besides,” he added curtly, his lips twitching into a dorky pout. “I'm like ten times cooler than him. I mean look at me, I'm basically a hot mess.”

It was then Jean decided to do the _Titanic_ 'draw me like one of your french girls' pose.

My heart stuttered in my chest. I can't even begin to fathom why. Honestly, this was the absolute worst thing to ever be turned on by. Well, other than your friend's grandma after she gets a perm but that is a completely different story. Sitting there right in front of him felt like I was standing on a middle school spelling bee stage in nothing but my underwear. I was embarrassed, my palms were clammy, I didn't exactly know what the fuck was going on and I had the unwavering feeling that I wanted to swan dive off of the face of the Earth..

But seriously, -even doing that- Jean was really fucking cute.

I cleared my throat with a cough, pretending there was something in my throat. “So, uh, you'll do it?” I asked. “Sit with us I mean.”

Jean shrugged, gnawing roughly on his bottom lip as he thought the idea over. “Yeah, alright.”

Oh thank god. That's a weight off my chest.

Please for the love of god let him be supportive of my friends.

 

* * *

 

 

Wednesday morning, instead of working on our new writing assignment; a partnered parody of an epic, Eren, had decided to see how many times he could stab his eraser with his pen before it turned into rubber mush.

Ah yes, since Krista and Ymir were obviously partnered up, Eren and I were together.

Not that I minded; Eren was a fantastic writer. Truth be told, my writing had nothing on his. The way his words flowed off a page was like an entire symphony at the height of it's performance, terrifying, beautiful and almost alive. Every story he wrote was just so eloquently simple. Granted though, Eren's only real downfall was how scary he became when he got passionate about ideas he had.

“Alright, alright hear me out,” Eren said eagerly as he frantically stabbed his eraser like he was in a tiny _whack a mole_ contest. “the _Iliad_ right? What better epic is there to parody? It's the best epic poem in all of Ancient Greece. It's got the gore,” he pretended to stab himself in the heart with his pen. “the romance,” Eren swooned. “the excitement,” he exclaimed throwing his fist in the air, every one of his actions seeming undoubtedly animated.

I couldn't help but laugh at this which seemed to make Eren come down off of his high and grin sheepishly at me. He somehow managed to show all off his teeth and gums. “Marco seriously the _Iliad_ is the whole package.”

“Oh, I'm not doubting it. I'm just wondering if you can act out our story for extra marks.”

A loud, tumultuous noise all but erupted from Eren's throat, mimicking that of a laugh. If the whole class hadn't been staring at us before, they most certainly were now. I didn't mind, the whole scene was hilarious. “Damn, the whole class would be in for the show of their lives.” Eren mused, miming the action of whipping an amused tear from the corner of his eye. The thought seemed to entertain him.

“Oh, that's an understatement.”

Eren was about to let out another laugh but Ymir seemed to be the only one brave enough to intervene.

“Will you two idiots shut it before Krista and I decide to parody the _Iliad_?” Ymir yelled from across the room chucking a ball of rolled up paper at Eren's unprotected forehead. His lips twitched into a scowl as it hit him dead on and looked over from me to glare at her, only to meet mislead eyes. Oh she wasn't angry. Like the rest of the class, she was thoroughly amused.

“Ymir-” Krista started resting her hand on her girlfriend's arm. But she was cut off by Eren sticking out his tongue through his scowl defiantly at Ymir as he flipped her off with both of his hands.

“Now I utterly despise your heart for the thing you have spoken!” he declared seriously and pompously, standing brashly from his seat getting the whole class to giggle and Mr. Zacharius to raise an eyebrow bemusedly.

“As exciting as it is to see that you can quote the _Iliad_ without text Mr. Jaeger, this is supposed to be a two person activity, not a class discussion. Besides, I don't think the Trojans fought the Greeks simply by hiding behind their friends and showing off their middle fingers.” he said gesturing toward Eren and I.

“With all due respect sir,” Eren said, making sure to step out from behind me -he was never one to want to hide himself anyway- and putting on his most serious face, trying not to crack a smile. “that's exactly how it happened.”

Zacharius froze, his mouth half open for half a second and sighed after realizing the truth in what Eren was saying. He shook his lowered head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

It was the look of a broken man.

“Alright, carry on.” he said with a limp wave of his hand. “I'm just pleased that you aren't doing another project on the Titans, Mr. Jaeger.”

Eren turned back to me and fist pumped the air, ignoring the snide remark about his obsession from Mr. Zacharius. His uncanny obsession with titans was bizarre to say the least but he had been ridiculed enough about it in the past to begrudgingly let the topic drop when someone made fun of his liking for the certain mythology. Surprisingly though, today it seemed that Eren was too preoccupied with exciting thoughts of Homer and _Iliad_ to even consider being irritated. It wasn't like him to let a comment like that slide. Oh well, Eren did have a one track mind. “Okay, okay so back to the actual story, right?” Eren said waving his hands around in frantic excitement. “What if we write from Odysseus' point of view in the terms that Patroclus never died? I mean, I know that's only a fraction of the _Iliad_ but it-”

“Nerd.” Ymir remarked curtly over her shoulder.

“I think that's a really good idea actually.” I said, ignoring Ymir who was smirking to herself while facing the front of the class.

Eren's grin widened, “Alright! So-”

He was cut off by another ball of paper hitting him between the eyes.

We looked up simultaneously at Ymir who was grinning like the Cheshire cat, tossing another paper ball idly in her hand. Krista had turned back to her notebook with a huge eye roll, seeming to have given up on her girlfriend being mature. I looked warily over at Eren who had narrowed his eyes and was about to start vengefully tearing out pages from his own notebook.

Yeah, he wasn't very mature to begin with either. I was going to have to side with Krista on this one. Luckily though, before they could start their all out war, the lunch bell sounded.

“Man and just when things were getting interesting!” Eren complained roughly slamming his notebook shut and shoving it into his green camo backpack. “So, I'll catch you tomorrow I guess?” he asked me only half interested, caching Ymir's eyes as she walked out the door. He narrowed his eyes at her, declaring an unspoken declaration of war and Ymir simply grinned heartily, sticking her tongue out at him. Krista, pretending to be unimpressed, sighed and pushed her girlfriend out of the room, the only thing giving her away was the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

“Oh! Actually, we were going to eat with you guys today.” I chirped, drawing Eren's attention back to me and the conversation we had been having.

He looked surprised, but he took it in stride. “Sweet! If we hurry I bet we can beat those two lovebirds down there!”

“Ah, as much as I would love to race through a mob of high schoolers going to lunch, I have to go pick up Jean from the music room, he doesn't know where you guys eat.”

Yeah, okay, so that he didn't take in stride.

Eren raised an eyebrow at me quizzically and tilted his head, “Jean? Like, Kirschtein?Jean Kirschtein?” he asked dubiously.

I would just like to point out that Eren managed to pronounce Jean's first AND last name wrong while at the same time making them sound like a sneeze.

Even after I said one of them.

Nice.

“Well.. yeah? The last time I checked I was only friends with one Jean.” I said timidly, rubbing the back of my neck, being careful to treat this situation gently in case Eren had beef with Jean like Jean did with him.

Instead of being mad that Jean was going to join us, Eren groaned halfheartedly with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Marco why do you even hang out with that wad? He's actually the worst. You can do so much better. I mean hey, why do you need people like him when you've got people like us?”

“People like him?” I questioned, mildly offended for my friend as I stuffed my bag with my notebooks. “Look, Eren, I like him, okay? He doesn't have many friends. Just this once, could you play it cool? Please don't make me give you the same lecture I gave him.” I sighed when he made a noise of distaste. “Can't either of you give him a chance?”

Eren answered, looking like it pained him, “Yeah, whatever, fine, but you owe me man. I mean come on,” In a french accent that Jean doesn't have, Eren declared brashly, his face looking ridiculous, “Look at me, I'm Jean, I can speak like sixteen different languages and I've been all over Europe. Blah, blah, blah. I'm a total teacher's pet and I think I'm the literal second coming of Christ. Blah, blah, blah.” He dropped the bad accent. “Dude, I stick by the fact you can do better.”

“He really doesn't sound like that.” I countered.

“Yeah, well, he may as well sound like it.” Eren snorted. “It's all anyone hears when he talks.”

“You know, when I think about it, I think you two sound a lot alike.” I deadpanned, letting my face fall into an irritated expression. “You're both complete idiots.”

“Me!? An idiot that sounds like that jerk? No way!”

I swung my notebook filled backpack over my shoulder. “You're sounding like him right now.”

Eren elbowed me in the ribs as we made our way out of the class and into the hall. “Don't _ever_ say something like that _ever_ again and I _promise_ I'll be nice today.”

“Yeah, okay, I promise.” I insisted, drawing an X for him over my chest in repetitive motions until he nodded his head in agreement.

Eren said his goodbyes but as turned to walk the other way he stopped mid step and spun around, face horrified. “Woah, woah, wait , hold the phone!” he declared, eyes wide. “You said you like him? Like, you like, like him?”

I suddenly realized my slip up and dove straight into trying to cover the secret back up. “Eren, no, I meant that in a totally platonic-”

Eren pointed his finger out at me accusingly and stabbed me with it three times in the chest. “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshiiiit!” He exclaimed wildly. “Oh my _GOD_. You have a crush on him don't you?”

“Jesus, Eren, _NO_!” I lied, my cheeks heating up none the less.

“You liar! You're blushing! You actually have a crush on _Kirschtein_?” He took a deep breath and shook my shoulder so fast it almost hurt. Seriously, calm the fuck down Sonic. “Oh my fucking god.” he said in astonishment, tightening his grip until it almost hurt.

“Ow, ow, ow!” I exclaimed, prying his hand off. “Eren keep your voice down! Everyone can hear you!” I hissed, waving my hand about frantically trying to hush his voice.

Eren didn't acknowledge me as he put his now neglected hand to his forehead, like the news had given him a horrible headache. “Hell, Marco someone as good as you with someone as-”

“Don't say it.” I warned.

Eren dropped it with a slight look of hesitation. “Okay, alright, but man!” he whined. “You and Jean!?Christ! Just _wait_ until I tell Reiner.”

“Eren, I swear to god-”

He was already half way down the hall by the time the words had left my mouth.

 

* * *

 

 

 

He was going to tell Reiner.

Oh god, he was going to tell all of them.

Kill me. Kill me now.

“So, uh, you seem... tense.” Jean stated tentatively with a raised eyebrow and quizzical look in an attempt to break my revere.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed shaking my head, trying to push the embarrassing thoughts. “Jeez, I guess I'm just super out of it today.” I lied with a friendly smile.

“Funny, because you were your very Marco like self in Politics this morning.” his eyebrows pulled together in concern and he stopped in the middle of the hallway, bringing our walk to a halt. Did something happen second period? Marco, are you okay?” he asked lacing his fingers tightly in the fabric of my sleeve, making sure I couldn't easily get out of his grasp.

My stomach was doing serious Olympic level somersaults at the pure look of concern that was chipping away at the foundation his usual neutral expression. The nervous twitch in his jaw, his intense, averted eyes and his warm fingers laced in the fabric of my shirt, gently pulling me in and out of the seams of reality, it was all so perfect. How was it possible that this, a simple friend like touch could make my heart stutter so delicately and fiercely like tiny butterfly wings?

I tried to brush off the giddy, good feeling of being in the presence of his possessive affection, I really did but at the same time, I could do nothing to stop the feverish blush and the delighted smile forming over my chapped lips.

He was so pretty. I had always thought him to be pretty, don't get me wrong. It's not like I was realizing it for the first time, but right in that moment he was catching my attention like shattered fragments of a mirror. He wasn't visibly attractive in a delicate way but instead he was pretty in the most boisterous way one could imagine. He was the highest and lowest note in a symphony and the rain and the sun. One without the other would be pointless. Lovely, but pointless. When he was bitter or blissful or even when his eyes were clouding with concern, he was Jean and he was beautiful.

Knowing that his concern was meant for me? Shit, that did something to me. Jesus, what I wouldn't give to trace my fingers over his lips. To run my thumb over his cheek or to pull at the tiny hairs at the back of his neck to draw him closer to me so I could feel his warm breath hit my skin in between sweet kisses and declarations of love. The scowl on his face and his shy but positively determined eyes made him look so outstandingly adorable. “Oh, no, Jean, don't worry I'm totally fine. I'm, uh, just thinking. You on the other hand seem overly paranoid. Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah, I know. I guess I am a little bit paranoid.” His cheeks flushed and he turned his face away to save me from having to see his embarrassment. He fiddled with his thumbs as he struggled to swallow his pride and ask, “I, uh, Marco, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Is it,” he paused wondering if he should continue. In his sudden silence, he bit his lip harshly causing the skin under his lip to turn momentarily white under the sudden pressure.“is it bad that I really want them to like me?”

I smiled gently down at him, a small laugh managing to fall off of my lips. “Jean. You know most of them already and I'm sure they already like you.”

He pursed his lips and kicked at the floor with the toe of his boot. “Don't laugh at me Marco. It feels like a big deal, okay?” he murmured through a pout.

I raised my hand in my own defense. “Alright, alright. No more laughing. Serious Marco is serious.”

“You're a dick, you know that right?”

“Rude.” I replied curtly. “Look Jean, I'll be right there. I promise, we can leave whenever you want, okay?”

“Alright, alright, fine. But I'm only doing this because you're a peach.” he insisted, before he hesitantly turned on his heel and tugged on my sleeve to lead me as we walked down the hall together. “Now, let's go and get this over with before I change my mind.”

“Whatever you say Jean-Bo.”

 

* * *

 

 

I don't know what I was expecting, coming to eat lunch with Eren and company after my little secret slipped out, but you know, this wasn't it.

Huh.

I mean, okay, I wasn't expecting them to be _exuberant_ but I think I expected them to be a little excited. You know, shock factor or whatever. I thought high school crushes were supposed to be a big deal. At least that's what YA books told me. I wouldn't really know. The total number of romantic endeavors I've had in my life as of thus far equal a grand total of one. I'm not exactly good with the whole dating thing.

Instead of being greeted with winks and elbow nudges of all knowing, the group greeted us with a brief wave and an invitation to sit and then they went back to their casual conversations.

I almost had the audacity to feel disappointed.

“Yo.” Ymir said with a half-assed salute to us as we sat down beside her.

“Uh hey,” I replied tentatively not sure what I should be anticipating.

Ymir waited, as if expecting me to say something more but when I didn't, she turned back to the conversation at hand. “Hold that thought,” Ymir said, completely loosing interest in my less than exceptional conversational skills. “Bananas would not make sufficient dildos. Too mushy and that wouldn't work if you were to-”

“Okay, okay!” Reiner interjected, shushing her with a gesture of his hands as he pointed down to his half eaten sandwich . “You win. Eating, no more talk about lady bits.”

“Lady bits.” Ymir snorted distastefully. “Cute. Say it Reiner. Vagina.”

“I am eating, woman!”

“Funny, that's what I like to do.”

Jean looked positively mortified. Then again so were Krista and Armin. In fact, I was feeling a little bit terrified as well.

“You're Jean.” Mikasa interrupted Ymir, as she finally finished profiling Jean.

“..Yeah.” Jean said slowly, pushing himself closer to me; making it evident that he was uncomfortable.

“Oh, yes, sorry! Introductions.” I jumped in, sensing his discomfort of being pushed into the spotlight. “Jean, that was Mikasa. Ymir was having the, uh, insightful conversation about bananas and Annie, say hey.”

“Hello.” Annie complied to my request without looking up from her phone, her fingers rapidly tapping the screen.

“And you've met everyone else so-”

“Eren has told me a lot about you.” Mikasa said, looking vaguely unimpressed.

In that moment I was glad that Jean couldn't see because the look Mikasa gave to people she was wary of could crush the soul and everything it was made out of.

“Has he?” Jean replied awkwardly, fumbling over the two simple words.

“Ah, Mikasa, lighten up.” Connie laughed, speaking up from his side conversation with Sasha. “Jean is a cool dude. Eren is biased.”

Jean looked relieved at the sound of a familiar voice. Eren glared over at Connie and silently flipped him off.

“Speaking of Jean being the coolest,” Sasha interjected. “Jean, do you happen to have any of those barbecue chips you brought last week?”

“..Yes.”

“Since you clearly know how much I love you-”

“I am not sharing, Sasha.”

“Oh, Jean!” She exclaimed. “Don't be mean, I just want one.”

“You want the whole bag.”

“You can't prove that.”

“I'm with Jean on this one.” Connie interjected and Sasha shoved him roughly away from her in a joking manner.

Jean cracked a smile and I swear my heart melted.

I don't know why I had any doubts about this, he was going to be just fine.

 

* * *

 

 

For a whole forty-five minutes I was actually impressed that my friends weren't going to nag me about liking Jean. Lunch had actually gone great, Jean had enjoyed himself which made me happy, life seemed pretty good.

Until Biology.

But I mean, go figure that pig distensions don't have good atmosphere.

I fiddled with the goggles pressing sharply against the skin above my eyebrows and under my eyes. “Alright, so we have to turn the pig over and expose the masseter musclethat works the jaw, lymph nodes, and salivary glands. After we label them we have to make a three centimetre incision at the corners of the-”

“Okay, time out, this is driving me nuts and I am literally going to butcher this pig if we don't talk about it right now.” Reiner, my lab partner for the day interrupted, picking up the scalpel to make an incision none the less. Being the guy with one arm and not enough balance to make the cuts, I was stuck reading the instructions while Reiner brought home the bacon.

“Eren told me before lunch today. Dude-”

I groaned, running my hand through my hair and slouching over the desk in exasperation. “Jesus, here we go.”

“Ha, I know right? Eren is kind of daft.”

“Huh?”

Reiner raised an eyebrow at me, slightly muddled. “What, nothing. I just think it's funny that Eren didn't know.”

“Wait, _you_ know?!”

“ _You_ didn't know _I_ knew?”

“No, _I_ didn't know that _you_ knew!”

“Seriously? Marco, I've known you've liked him for a while now. A lot of us do actually. Bertholdt, Armin, Connie, Sasha, Krista, Ymir, me, even Annie has suspicions and she only met him an hour ago. It's not a surprise.”

“O-oh?” I stammered, a blush creeping into my cheeks.

“Eren is daft but you Marco, are obvious.” Reiner said with a confident tweak of his lips.

“I am?” I squeaked.

“Painfully so.”Reiner remarked in a very matter-of-fact kind of way. “You're kind of lucky that Jean is almost as oblivious as Eren.”

I rubbed the back of my neck uneasily. “I, uh, shit, I thought I was being subtle about it.”

“Nope.”

It was painful how straight up he shot the idea down.

My cheeks were burning up. It felt like I was wearing a turtle-neck in mid summer. “Oh, well, I would have told you. Honestly I would have but I've never had a crush like this before and I honestly thought you were going to tease me about it. Well not _you_ mostly Connie and Eren. Reiner, he just makes me feel giddy. Actually giddy. I've never felt giddy before, I thought it was just an emotion authors used in books because excited is an overused word. But he actually makes me _giddy_. And have you seen him? He's beautiful. I mean he's-”

I finally had the courage to glance up from my shoes to look at Reiner again when I realized I was rambling my feelings away. He was grinning, ear to ear, like a delighted cat. “Marco, you don't have to explain yourself. Jean is a good guy and you obviously like him a lot. Look, all I wanted to say was that I know you've never been in a relationship before-”

“Hey, I've-!”

“Thomas Wagner does not count, that only lasted sixteen hours. I mean a serious relationship. Anyway if you-”

“Reiner, I just like him, there isn't any relationship to speak of.”

Reiner let out an exasperated whine. “Will you let me finish Bodt? I'm just trying to help you out.” When I nodded, he continued, “Thank you. What I want to say is that if you need anything, any advice, someone to talk to or you know, some condoms, Berty and I at least have your back okay? Look the cat is out of the bag but that may not be a bad thing, am I right? I'm sure it hasn't been fun keeping all of this mushy stuff to yourself.”

“Oh god Reiner, you have no idea.” I exclaimed, slumping into my bench stool, rolling our lab instructions together in my hands. “It's the worst.”

Reiner raised an eyebrow with a smirk and picked up the scalpel once more and turned back to the pig. I had an assumption this was going to be a lot like _Surgeon Simulator._ “You like him a lot, huh?” he said as he finally finished the cut.

I snorted.“You have no idea."

“Everyone does actually, except Jean apparently.”

“Well, thank god for that.” I replied sarcastically.

“Also, about the teasing. We will tease you. Mercilessly in fact. But you have to know, we're doing it in your best interest.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ah yes, not just to get satisfaction out of it or anything. Not to make me look stupid.”

“Love makes people stupid.” Reiner retorted. “But it also makes us happy and _we_ are happy for _you_ that you've found someone to be stupid with together. That's why we're going to tease you, it's because we love you.”

“I think that's just a fancy way of saying that teasing me is your payback for me not admitting that I had a crush on him sooner.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

I cleared my throat and averted my eyes from him, the humor of the moment gone. “Hey Reiner,” I said quietly. “what if he's straight?”

Reiner shrugged again, this time obviously being careful to choose the right words as if he heard a ring of truth in my scared words. Reiner had obviously considered the possibility. “Then he is. There isn't anything you can do about it, except for be honest with him. But Marco, love isn't just as simple as gay and straight. It's a lot more complex than that but I think there is a big chance that he may like you too.”

“R-really?” I stuttered, a small smile breaking over my lips. “You think he could like me?”

“Marco, your friends wouldn't tease you about a crush you have unless we think he likes you back. That would be awful on our part. Besides, everyone likes you. You're an angel. He's lucky to have someone like you like him. You're a hell of a guy Marco Bodt.”

I could help but let my smile grow like a spring flower in May. “Thank you, Reiner.”

“Yeah, no problem Marco, but seriously, you need something, I am here for you. Mostly for condoms because my life advice sucks. Now, tell me more about your prince charming, while I finish butchering this poor pig aight?”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the week passed by smoothly. I still hadn't told Jean but I was definitely feeling more confident about doing so. I think at that point I was just waiting for the right moment and it just hadn't happened yet but before I knew it, it was Saturday and I found myself hanging out at Jean's. Alicia and mom had decided to spend the day over at Grandma's and because I didn't particularly want to spend the afternoon baking tasteless cookies, I told mom I had already made plans.

Which was a lie but I called Jean and he was more than happy to let me come over and hang out for a few hours.

Apparently so was his mom. According to Jean I had made a very good and likable first impression.

With no homework tying us to his bedroom, and Ms. Kirschtein going out for groceries, Jean decided that we should hang out in the living room. It was a cute little room with quaint lace decorating every single surface and white floral couches laying on top of a blue rug. There was a positively ancient box television sitting across from the floral love seat, surrounded by baskets full of fake fruit but other than that, there wasn't much else to the room except for the peeling, yellow-starred wall paper.

I liked it.

Jean was vaguely indifferent when I told him that.

We talked for a little while and we laughed a lot but it didn't take Jean very long to ask if I wanted to watch a movie with him.

He was rather embarrassed when he told me we would have to turn on the visual description but I didn't mind and so Jean lead me off the couch nimbly to an old, rusting, metal trunk sitting in the hallway near the door leading outside. It surprised me a little bit how easily Jean could move around his house. He knew exactly where everything was and completely disregarded his walking stick, but I suppose I shouldn't have found this surprising.

Jean leaned over and unhooked the latch on the trunk and opened it for me. Inside were over a hundred old VHS tapes, some in cases, most of them not. I hadn't seen this many tapes in years. We sold our VCR when I was ten and had quickly upgraded to a disk system.

“We don't have a DVD player, Jean explained quickly. “and these are all pretty old, but they're all really good.”

“Oh, wow, how will we even pick one?” I asked, kneeling down beside him in awe.

Jean laughed. “It doesn't matter to me.”

I pursed my lips at him before I turned back to the giant trunk of VHS tapes. I picked up the top one. “ _The Jungle Book_.”

Jean scrunched up his nose. “Not feeling it.”

I placed the tape back and picked up the next few. “ _Home Alone, The Lion King_ or _The Sound Of Music_?”

“Nah.”

I silently stuck my tongue out at him, slightly disappointed that he didn't want to watch _The Lion King_ . “Okay,” I said putting them back as well. “What about _The King and I_ or _The Iron Giant_.”

Jean's face softened showcasing the glimpse a fond memory. “Oh man, I haven't seen _The Iron Giant_ in _years_!”

“Huh.” I said. “I've never seen it.”

Jean looked at me incredulously. “We're watching it.” he dictated and slammed the trunk shut carelessly. I was just glad that my fingers had been out of the way. I handed him the VHS and he took it graciously, hugging it to his chest like it was precious as he made his way over to the TV.

After Jean quickly summed up the plot for me and the tape was done rewinding, we were set to watch. During the previews, Jean got up to make us some microwaveable popcorn and I sat alone on the small floral love seat, watching advertisements for movies that had come out years ago.

Jean came back and sat down closer to me than he had previously been and balanced the popcorn bowl on our touching thighs. It was pleasantly warm.

The movie started and Jean was immediately engaged in the story which I thought was quite cute but it wasn't any more than five minutes until I was just as enthralled as he was. There was nothing not to like about the movie. It was a cartoon and the animation was seriously beautiful. There was a robot and fun characters with a great plot and within half an hour in I had fallen in love. I found that I didn't even mind the visual description after a while.

Jean's mom came home at some point when we were watching the movie but I don't think either of us noticed and if Jean did, he didn't say anything. About halfway through the movie, I realized we had eaten all the popcorn but when I turned to tell Jean that I was still hungry, I saw him mouthing the lines of the movie to himself and I couldn't bring myself to snap him out of it.

He was too cute.

When the movie started to come to an end, I started to cry. I tried to suppress it, I didn't want to look like a baby but Jean hadn't warned me that the end was going to be _that_ sad, and the waterworks started. Jean, due to his closeness to me, felt me hiccuping back tears and shaking. He looked over in concern, then understanding, gave me a small smile and linked his fingers with mine, squeezing reassuringly as he let his neck go limp so he could rest his head on my shoulder.

For the rest of the movie, he didn't move and he didn't let go.

This. This is what I wanted.

From him. For us.

I desperately wanted to kiss him.

I didn't tell him yet, it wasn't the right moment, but this small gesture made me happy.

The movie ended and neither of us moved as the credits rolled. “Did you like it?” he asked quietly, trying not to disturb the silence we had been sitting in for a while now.

I nodded silently, resting my head on top of his, not sure I could speak yet without my voice cracking, but I did like it. I liked it a lot. 

“Good.” He looked intensely out of the corner of his eye; like he was debating something mentally with himself before he lifted his head to look at me straight on and said, “Hey listen, Marco, there's something I have to tell you.”

It came to my attention that he hadn't let go of my hand after the movie had ended and now his hands, even the one that was holding mine was shaking. “Of course.” I managed to say with a smile, trying to steady my own hand. “What's up? Want to watch another movie?”

“Not right now.” he said in a small voice, shrinking into himself in uncertainty. “Maybe in a minute, gotta talk to you first.”

“Okay, I'm all ears.” I told him, taking away my hand for a brief second to wipe away my tears before I gave him back my hand to latch on to. It just felt like a natural thing to do.

“I don't really know how to say this but after eating lunch with your friends, I feel better about saying it because some of them are.. well you know.. “ he trailed off for a second, trying in vain to figure out a poetic way to voice his thoughts. “Anyway, Marco, this is a good enough time as ever to tell you. I, uh, I just think maybe you should know, since you know, we're getting pretty close and all. And I really hope you're cool with it, like I know you probably will be but I-I-I-”

“Jean, it's okay, go ahead.” I said. I could hear the confusion leaking into my voice.

He squeezed my hand tightly before continuing, like he was now reassuring himself. “Okay. Marco, Marco, Marco, I, uh, Jesus okay, here we go.” he paused again. “Marco I'm, uh, well, I'm bi." rushing into the next part of his speil with complete anxiety, taking my stunned silence as a bad sign. "I'm sorry if you think that's weird but I thought you should know, I mean you seem really cool around Ymir and Reiner and I think we're becoming pretty good friends and I thought you should know. I know that some people say it's selfish and that you can't like two genders but I've always been that way and I-”

What emotion possibly came first? Happiness? Relief? Elation? Exuberance? Joy? It was a landslide of all positive emotion to be honest. I couldn't even begin to place how immediately elated I was feeling.

Jean wasn't straight. I had assumed wrong and I was never happier to be wrong in my life.

Jean was gay.

Well, kind of.

I had a chance.

He may like me.

He could actually _like_ me.

It took me a minute to realize but I suddenly came to the realization that it was me who had cut him off from talking earlier with my eyes spouting with tears again and a broken-like laugh emitting itself from my lips.

I was so relieved.

For a second he looked betrayed, then angry, then sad and he quickly ripped his hand away. “Oh my god Marco, I'm sorry I though- oh Christ- I thought you would have been okay with this. I'm so sorry. This is weird isn't it, oh god I fucked up, shit dude,I thought you were-”

Oh shit, he thought I was laughing at _him_.

I was ruining this.

I was ruining our moment.

Even though he was angry, I couldn't stop smiling.

“Oh, no, no, no! Jean!” I exclaimed heartily through a jubilant grin. I took his hand back and clutched it like a lifeline to my chest. Jean's eyes widened in unconscious shock. He was clearly drawn back by my sudden intimate openness.  “Jean, no, Jean, I'm gay. I'm gay. I've been waiting for the right minute to tell _you_ that! I was worried to tell you because I was scared of what _you_ would think! That's why this is funny! Not because of you!”

Jean froze, his words failing him.“Y-you're gay?” he squeaked in surprise.

It took barely a second for me to start laughing again so loud that I was genuinely surprised his mom didn't hear. “ _Yes,_ Jean.”

“And we were both worried about telling each other that we both like dudes?”

“ _Yes,_ Jean.”

Before I knew it Jean's head had fallen forward on to my shoulder and he was laughing too. “Oh my god.” he gasped through giggles and brief happy tears, sounding as relieved as I felt. “Oh my god. This is perfect.”

It was. Oh god, it was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Actually I hope you're liking the whole thing so far.  
> As always, my tumblr is makohar-eau and you can follow me if you want.  
> So, I'm going to sleep now.  
> I'll probably edit the chapter more during the week sometime, I don't know.  
> -Khaiyo


	6. Holding You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco cries a lot and Jean is a doofus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, no I'm not dead! (Well, I almost died which is why this chapter is so late but like don't mind that) I'm totally kidding but I did break my wrist so that wasn't very good for the writing process and slowed me down a lot. Sorry it's a late chapter but I hope you like it!

 Chapter six

It was mid way through October when Reiner decided that this year for Halloween we were all going to go and get trashed at his place since his dad was going to be out of town for the weekend and he had the whole house to himself and his shenanigans.

Now let me tell you, this whole party thing; it was such a teenage clichéd thing to do. It sounded like a completely overrated idea and it also seemed rather stereotypical of problematic teenagers -like ourselves- to give into the norms of the mold we had been given by society.

Come to think of it; this party probably wasn't a _good_ idea either.

But you know what? Even though I was a bit nervous about it and was over analyzing it like a long answer question on a math exam: for the first time in a really long time I was actually really excited to go to one of Reiner's parties. Actually, if we're being honest I suppose I was excited to go out of my way to hang out with my friends in general.

Booze, road trips, inexperienced kissing and campfires; _that_ was the shit that I was promised I was going to have and do in my teenage years and for one weekend of my life: I decided I was going to let myself give into the cliché and let myself have actual teenage fun.

Though more in tune to the flaws of social expectation than I was, Ymir was more than thrilled and was -unsurprisingly- the first one of us to be completely on board with Reiner's party plan. Right off the bat she was nominating herself to be the bringer of the booze. I mean, I probably don't say it enough but seriously, thank god for Ymir and her love of alcohol because if she wasn't around -with me being the eldest and almost the legal drinking age- I would have been stuck with the task of bringing the drinks.

And if it weren't for labels I honestly wouldn't be able to tell the difference between vodka and a cooler.

So, from the basis of this evidence we can conclude that I am indeed kind of a pathetic excuse of an adult.

Oh well.

Eren was probably the most psyched for the party out of all of us though. So much so that anyone in a five hundred meter radius at any given point of the day knew that Reiner was hosting a “hella fucking kick ass, rad' party on Halloween and that we were going to get 'turnt af''.

Evidently, the English language would fall apart without Eren using it.

All of Seattle probably knew about the party by now.

I don't know he was excited because of the booze, the candy, costumes or a night of eternal dead but damn he was pumped and his ecstasy -though irritating if you were standing in spitting range- was definitely rubbing off on everybody else.

Soon enough we were all buzzing with excitement, even Annie and Mikasa seemed vaguely pleased to be going.

I don't actually know why I was so excited for this party. I mean come on, it was a social event with underage drinking and the threat of doing something stupid. It wasn't something I'd usually get a rush from but shit, you know what? I was.

Maybe it was because everyone else was high-spirited about the party and the excitement was simply rubbing off on me but I had an inkling I was mostly excited because of Jean.

The couple weeks that followed the day we watched the _The Iron Giant_ had been staggeringly wondrous. Jean and I had been hanging out at his place almost every night after school for the past three weeks just watching movies, lounging around, talking and simply enjoying being around one another. I was -in fact- the happiest I'd been in a very long time.

Life was sweet and it was slow but it was nice. It was comfortable. It was us. When we were together it just felt.. right. It was like we were two pieces of a different puzzle that by some miracle somehow managed to fit together anyway.

Honestly, I didn't know what we were. How to describe us -how to describe what we had- it was almost impossible. We loved each other but we weren't in love with each other. When I was with him I could breathe. I could stand strongly with him and not be afraid of the vast world in front of us because I knew he was there. We were friends who loved each other. Maybe not romantically, but purely and hell that was good enough for me. Though we weren't together, we weren't apart.

We were made for each other but I suppose the universe and I had already and simultaneously figured that out a long time ago through stuttering breaths and imaginative daydreams. It was written in the stars and mapped out through the brobdingnagian galaxies and constellations that Jean and I were meant to take on the world side by side. No matter what world or lifetime; we lived so we could love one another.

In all of my past lives -if there were any like we fantasized there were to escape the hems of reality and the present moment- I prayed that I had always known him; and that in every life I had loved him like he deserved.

Things were tranquil between the two of us now more than ever before. We were like the sea after a storm. The air of tension that constantly surrounded us and the walls we had built around ourselves to keep the other out seemed to crumble at the seams. Not instantaneously, of course they didn't drop all at once but the changes in our honesty were evident. The daily motions we went through with each other felt natural and normal and Jean seemed to be genuinely happy. He smiled ear to ear and showed all of his teeth, not caring what I thought of him which just made him all the more beautiful.

We had spent so much time hiding parts of who we really were from each other that we didn't realize that our flaws and disadvantages were part of what shaped us into who we were. Fear of flaw is a terrible thing, one that the human species just can't escape from but if we could would we really be human?

No, probably not.

Hanging out at Jean's place seemed to be the norm for us now so it wasn't a surprise that I found myself chilling on his couch on a Thursday night the day before Halloween when I should have been at home studying for a bio test I had the next day.

But seriously, in my defense, who schedules a test on Halloween? That is just a beacon begging me not to study.

I sat on the very edge of the loveseat with my ribs smushed against the hard armrest and I was trying very hard not to complain about the sharp wire beneath the fabric that happened to be digging painfully into my side. Jean on the other hand, lay sprawled across the entire couch with his head on my lap, his eyes closed and his feet dangling off the edge of the opposite armrest. It had been a long day and I don't know if it was because of the pep rally Reiner had forced all of us to go to or if Jean and I were just lazy but either way, we were both pretty exhausted. Lounging around was just what we needed.

Jean seemed absent minded, almost dazed and I soon found myself tugging softly at the ends of his hair in a faineant endeavor to get his attention. He paid no mind to me though and continued to diligently focus on his rather loud and obnoxious mouth breathing exercises that he was doing in sync with Schrodinger who was laying on my feet and drooling on the tops of my socks. It was like they were having their own little private competition that I wasn't allowed to participate in.

How rude.

Though this irritated me a lot more than I would admit, I had given up trying to make conversation a while ago and in my boredom and fatigue, I had decided to try and memorize the slope of Jean's cheekbones and jaw.

Yep, the sappy feelings I had for this nerd still hadn't gone away.

“Hey,” I said, poking gently at his forehead after the show we were watching to drew to a close with a rather unsatisfying conclusion to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep on me. “you still in there space cadet?" 

He nodded slightly, sending me up a cute, beat smile. “Mhmm, just thinking.” he murmured in a wistful, sleepy voice as he stretched out his arms, moaning slightly as his bones cracked and muscles flexed. He was tired and it was late so I forgave him when his hand hit my face. Both of us were a little out of it.

“About what Jean-Bo?” I asked, rubbing the edge of my stinging nose.

Jean grunted loudly and threw his head back against my legs like he was in some sort of figurative agony. “I can't believe you're still calling me that.”

I laughed and pulled once more on a strand of his hair for good measure. “Oh, come on. It's so cute.”

He sent me an aggravated, pout which just made me laugh harder. Man, his face looked ridiculous from this angle. “Exactly! I don't want a cute nickname, I'm a man. I need a manly nickname.” he retorted earnestly.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to not let it show that I thought his antics were hilarious and mildly adorable. “Yet you're completely fine with me calling you space cadet?” I mused, failing to hide my smirk.

“Y-yes, wait, _**no**_ _Marco-_ ” he sighed exasperatingly.

“What, Jean-Bo?” I prodded jokingly again as I poked him in the ribs.

He threw his arms over his face. “Come on Marco, my _mom_ calls me that.”

“Well,” I paused for effect. “mother knows best.”

“Don't you _dare_ quote Disney at me.” he whined weakly behind his hands.

I smirked and ruffled his hair. He objectively made a face at me, scrunching up his nose as he wormed away from the touch flailing ungracefully and nearly falling off of the couch and on to his dog in the process.

“You're such a dork.” I smiled slowly down at him as I bent over slightly, making sure that I had a good grip on his waist so he didn't fall off of the couch.

He rolled his eyes at me and reached up to flick me on the nose. “So are you, doofus.” he said softly and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Touché.” I mumbled running my thumb over his cheek affectionately.

I wanted to kiss him.

God, I wanted to kiss him so much.

I wanted to kiss him there on his too small couch. I wanted to kiss and bite at his ears and touch him all over until some force of nature physically forced my to stop. I wanted to hold him tightly to me, and just tell him how much I never want to leave him.

“Booooys,” Jean's mother's singsong voice came humming from the kitchen breaking me out of the somewhat inappropriate thoughts I was having about her son. “Is Marco staying for supper tonight?”

Jean cleared his throat awkwardly turning his head away from me, his cheeks painted a pale pink and he elbowed me in the ribs. “Are you?”

I felt hot and sweaty all of the sudden and was immediately self conscious about the thoughts I had been having. “Uh, sure I-” I started.

“ _Oui, Maman,_ he's staying!” Jean yelled back into the kitchen before I could finish which startled me slightly.

“Good, then you both can come in here and get it ready!” she called back.

“ _Maman_!” Jean groaned. “Marco and I are tired, that's not fair!”

“Jean Kirschtein do not talk to me about fair. If you drop while you're cooking _mon amour_ , I'll personally carry you off to bed.”

“ _Maman._ ” he insisted though a pitiful whine.

“ _Fils_.”she countered, mocking the whine in his voice.

Not wanting to get in the middle of this and simply wanting to get up, I rolled my eyes and poked him hard in the gut. “Jean, get up, we're going to go make dinner.”

“Who's side are you on?!” he asked incredulously, holding his stomach defensively as I practically pushed him up to his feet.

“Your mom's, _obviously._ ”

“Oh, you traitorous-”

“If you call me a bitch again, I swear to god I'll shave the rest of your hair off.”

Jean narrowed his eyes at me, challenging my words, “Bitch.” he dared me slowly, drawing out every syllable in the word.

Oh, he better pray to god I don't find any razors in the bathroom.

I hip checked him into the wall.

 

* * *

 

“I'm going to cut my fingers off.”

“Jean, grow up. It's a cheese grater.”

“Still.”

I rolled my eyes for about the sixtieth time in the last half hour. “You're impossible.” I replied sending the retort over my shoulder.

I didn't even have to look back at him to know he was grinning. I could hear the amusement in his voice. “I know.” he replied.

I went back to stirring the tomato sauce over the stove “So, hey, what were you thinking about earlier? You never did tell me.” I asked over my shoulder, only to see him with his war face on and pretty close to full out wrestling with the small device. 

“Well, yeah because _someone_ was being an asshole.” he replied with a frustrated grunt.

“Don't put yourself down like that.”

Jean snorted acrimoniously. “And I'm the one being impossible?”

“I learned from the best.” I retorted, removing the pot from the heat and set it down on the opposite burner. Rubbing my hand on my shirt, I turned around to lean against the island counter top facing him and stole some grated cheese from his bowl. “So, thinking?” I asked, attempting to toss the substance into my mouth but most of it hit the area around my mouth instead.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Jean exclaimed as I reached over for more cheese and he roughly swatted my seeking hand away. “If you keep eating it we won't have any cheese to put on the pizza. You can start kneading the dough.”

“Who made you kitchen king?”

“No one. This is a dictatorship.”

“Rude.” I replied frivolously through a laugh and moved on to the next task. “I keep interrupting you, I'm sorry, continue.”

“Sorry my ass.” he scoffed, smirking down toward the grater in his hands. “Anyway, I was thinking about the party. I was wondering if uh, maybe you wanted to go together?”

My heart missed a beat.

Well shit, it appeared that my heart had stopped.

“O-oh, yeah?” I stammered, trying to appear nonchalant.

The grater dropped to the counter top with a loud bang as if he suddenly realized what he was implying. I jumped back in shock of the loud noise, nearly burning my hand on the hot stove. He seemed to take that the wrong way and started waving his hands frantically in front of himself defense, his eyes going owl wide. “Oh no! Not like that! I-I mean you know, mom is working late that night and so I was just wondering maybe if I could hitch a ride with you and maybe we could chill a bit before we have to go and or maybe if you want we could go get a burger or something. I mean, we could totally walk to McD's first before we go. It's not too far from your place and well ugh Jesus Christ I'm rambling. I'm rambling aren't I?”

Nice save Jean.

I mean we _were_ practically cuddling on the couch an hour ago so let's try and cover that gay act with you know offering to take me out for dinner, because yeah that _totally_ doesn't sound like a date.

Jean you are one smooth motherfucker.

The funniest part about this was, no matter how red his face got or how much of a nerd he was being as he tried to hide his embarrassed expression in his hands, my heart just wouldn't stop racing. I had such a big crush on this nerd and it was almost stupid.

Basically what I'm trying to saying is that one day this boy is going to give me a hernia.

“Yeah, that, uh, that sounds great.” I told him through a shaky smile, cringing into myself a little bit out of honesty. “But uh, there is a little problem.”

“Huh? Oh,” Disappointment hung heavily in the air. He idly picked up the cheese grater again and tossed it airily between his hands. “Never mind then, I can always ask Connie to-”

“No, no! There's no problem with _that_. I want to go with you. ” I insisted. There was no way Connie was going to get a date with Jean before me. “What I mean is, I uh, haven't exactly told my mom about the party yet.”

Jean's eyebrows shot up into his hairline in evident shock. “Really? Dude, it's-”

“Tomorrow, I know but like, it'll be cool.” I said, not quite liking the uncertain feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. “It's cool,” I reassured myself. “she'll be totally cool with it so hey, don't even worry about it. Now,” I paused. “give me some more cheese.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yeah, so mom wasn't cool with it. 

“A _party_ Marco? Why would you want to go to something like _that_?” Mom asked tiredly, trying to be quiet since Alicia had just went of to bed. Her face in her her hands and elbows on the oak table to support her head and she looked absolutely miserable. “This isn't like you.”

“Well, it's just a Halloween party, it's just a big hang out really-”

“Is there going to be alcohol?”

“Well.. _yeah_ but-”

“Marco, no.”

“What? Why?” I asked confusedly. “We're not stupid, we aren't going to do anything irrational.”

“Marco, just a few months ago you were telling me that parties and hanging out with these friends you have isn't your 'thing'. You told me that it stressed you out. Why the change of heart, baby?” she asked taking her head out of her hands and she wrapped her hands around mine like she did when I was little.

“Social situations _do_ make me anxious mom but I don't have any reason to be nervous around my friends. Besides, I already told Jean we could give him a ride there since his mom is working late.”

There was a pause.

“Jean.” she stated blankly.

Okay, so looking back, mentioning Jean wasn't a good choice.

“Uh, yeah. Jean Kirschtein. From school. Blonde, blind-”

“I know who he is Marco.” my interrupted rather harshly before she sighed and deflated into herself as if being straight with me had taken up all of her energy. “Look, sweetheart, listen to me. I just,” she sighed. “I don't like that boy.”

I smiled at her. “Oh, come on.” I laughed but when her expression didn't change to match my grin, I realized that she wasn't actually joking and the smile fell.“W-wait what? You're serious?!” I stuttered stupidly, choking on my words and not realizing that I had practically yelled the inquiry at her. I was stunned. Jean was my friend and I talked so highly of him, where did this sudden dislike come from? Mom didn't dislike _anyone_. I lowered my voice. “W-why?” I questioned, utterly confused.

She held my hand tighter so I couldn't rip myself away from the conversation. “Marco, honey, don't take this the wrong way but I just... I just don't think he's good for you. You're so sweet honey and I know you're just trying to help the poor boy but there are some people in this world that take kindness for granted. Some people are selfish and arrogant. Remember that state he put you in after the fair? Because I certainly do. I don't ever want to see you be that sad ever again. He practically tore you apart! And now he's dragging you to parties, telling you to drink and distracting you from your school work and your family? How is that fair to you? You're never home anymore, we've barely seen each other for a week! Alicia and I miss you and you know what Marco, I just can't help myself to wonder what else he'll do to you. What happens when he looses interest in whatever it is you two have? What then, Marco?”

Her voice was so calm, like she actually knew what she was talking about and I think out of all the things that she had said that is what frustrated me the most.

“He's not like that at all. And that day at the fair.. it was a misunderstanding. We're over it now. So maybe you should be too.” I told her gently, my voice verging irritable. I shook her fingers off of my hand, suddenly not enjoying the touch. She tried to hang on but I made sure to draw my hand away quickly. “He's wonderful, and he's sweet. He's a little rough around the edges, sure, but he's not a bad guy. You just have to get to know him.” I stared down at my toes, blushed and murmured quietly. “I.. like him a lot.”

She sighed once again, her eyes begging for rest. “Oh Marco, I know you do now but one day you won't. You'll get over this phase and you'll find a nice girl and-”

That was a slap to the face.

It was in that moment that I felt my entire world crumble into itself. A self implosion of reality itself. It was the feeling you get when you miss a stair and the second after a glass plate hits the floor before it shatters. My brain, my heart, everything I had and was simply split into pieces like atoms. It was as if breaking me was nothing at all. The pain I felt right then, it hurt more than anything physical ever could. Sure, it hurts when you break a bone but it's simply torturous when someone breaks you from the inside out.

And here we were, our first argument since the cancer.

“Mom.” I said quietly, trying to hold myself together but that was just bout as easy as trying to tape together the titanic. “You really think I'm going through a phase?”

She tried to remain soothing but I was far passed being swayed like a baby.“No, no! Sweetheart, I just think you're too young to know what you really want and-”

“I like boys.” I told her abruptly. “I know what I want and there is no way you'd be able to tell that for me. I _know_ like men and I _know_ I like Jean and you know what else I know? I know that I'm going to this party.”

“Marco, you're still a child.” She snapped at me harshly, her docile tone completely gone. “My answer is no and it will continue to be a no.”

I narrowed my eyes at her in indignant denial. “A child? A _child_?” I demanded abrasively just waiting for her to reply so I could strike out again.

I couldn't say I was really feeling the whole calm thing anymore, probably because _holy shit_ it scared me how furious I was. There was no way in my mind that this could be a rational conversation. I mean how could it? How could this even possibly come close to being a fraction of rationality? How _dare_ she play the child card.

How could she possibly think she knew how I felt when a lot of the time, _I_ didn't even know how I felt?

“Marco-”

“That's enough!” I shouted, startling myself out of the poisonous reverie. “I am not a child. _Alicia_ is a child. _I_ am eighteen years old. _I_ am legally an adult. I think we both know that I stopped being a child a long time ago.” I seethed stepping backwards from her, backing into the counter top, caging me in the room. “After your father dies and you're told you're sick with something that can kill you, I think you grow up pretty damn quickly!”

Her eyes widened in shock and realization.“Marco-” she gasped racing to her feet and reached out toward me to pull me into her arms.

“No, no more!” I yelled, pushing her arms away from me as I stumbled backward and away from the counter, my socks slipping on the tile. She looked pained and pale and shocked at my outburst. To be honest, I was shocked too. I could hear my voice straining again. “No more babying! Don't touch me!” I screeched, my voice sounding shrill and broken. “I am going to that party, I don't need your permission. I don't need permission anymore.” I stared down at my shaking hand, resenting the fact that it would never have a double to do the same. “I hate this can't you see? I hate it!” It took me a moment to realize that I was nearly screaming the words and that scared, sad and angry tears were streaming down my face. “I never wanted to be this way! I never asked for cancer! I never asked for any of this and he gets that and you just want to take that away from me!”

“No, Marco,” her voice was pleading, eyes were shinning with desperation and I suddenly realized just how deeply I was hurting her. “no, I-”

“No more.” I whispered shaking my head, trying to shake the guilty feelings loose. I shouldn't have felt guilty. I shouldn't have. I shouldn't. But I did and I hated myself for it. I pushed myself away from the counter I was backed up against and rushed past her, not sparring her another glace as I angrily whipped the tears away from my eyes. “I'm done.”

I walked away.

I heard her call my name and sputter out some more supposedly comforting words but I couldn't bring myself to turn back around. I'd done enough damage and so had she. I was done for the day.

It didn't even surprise me how quickly I found myself digging into my pocket for my phone. I fumbled over it like a lifeline, breathing hard and shallow as I shut myself into my room and slid down the back of the door in exhaustion. I drew my knees into myself and ran my hand over my face and hair desperately, and I found myself rocking back and fourth slightly to try and stop the tears and numbness from becoming too overwhelming.

I don't remember calling Jean, I just remember him answering.

He picked up on the second ring. The sound of the TV and his mother chattering away in the in the background of the call immediately hit my ears and I was suddenly struck with the idea that this may be a bad time. Maybe he wouldn't have time to listen. Maybe he wouldn't want to listen to me. It was late, nearly midnight, maybe it was too late for me and my issues. This was my problem and maybe I _should_ feel guilty for wanting to vent to him about it. The idea of that being an attainable reality hurt my heart. “Hey, Marco, what's up, buddy?” he asked, his tired voice filling my being with a reminder of familiar warmth from earlier this evening.

I breathed in and out quickly, my breath hitched in my throat as I tried to collect my thoughts into coherent ideas. “Hey, Jean,” I heard myself say rather rushed and anxiously though I can't remember moving my lips to form the words. I tried to laugh for him. I tried to shrug the numbness off of me. I tried to assure myself that everything was okay. I did try. “just wanted to hear you.” I said through a blubbery laugh like cry.

There was dead silence on his end for a fraction of a second. “Hold on just a minute, Marco.” he instructed urgently. “Don't hang up, alright?”

And just like that, I knew he knew what was going on.

I heard something fall to the ground on the other end of the line and the sound of couch springs creaking. He said something I couldn't quite make out to his mother -it sounded like a brief apology- and judging by the sound of footsteps I guessed that he had he left the living room. In a rushed, alarmed whisper his voice was in my ears again. His full attention was back to me. “Marco, _shit_ are you crying!?”

I shook my head vigorously like that would answer the question. “Only a little.” I whispered propping the phone on my shoulder and hiding my face in my hand. “It's nothing, just need to hear someone right now.”

 _I needed to hear you_.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” His voice was suddenly serious, protectively low and sullenly concerned. Despite his concern though, his voice huddled over me like a safety blanket. It was so warm and so very nice that I felt as if I could melt into it. For a second I was almost content and I closed my eyes to try to imagine him here beside me.

I wriggled my toes, trying to regain feeling in them and ran my fingers through my hair pretending they were his fingers instead of mine. “I'm freaking out.” I told him frankly my hand shaking as I wiped away more tears and sweat from my face desperately. I felt like I was drowning in my own body.

“What happened?”

“Well, funny story actually.” I said, trying to make my voice sound light but failing when another sob erupted unexpectedly from my lips. “I uh, told mom about the party.”

I heard him take in a sharp breath. “Marco, what happened?” he asked decisively again.

“I'm freaking out.” I told him again.

“Marco,” he said in a soft voice that purred it's way into my ears. “you _can_ talk to me.”

I shook my head in my hand. “She's disappointed in me, Jean.” I mumbled, teardrops falling through my fingers and on to my knees and through my lips into my mouth. “She's disappointed.”

“About what? The party?”

“No, well a little, maybe.” I paused to let out another mangled cry that remained mingled with my laughter. “Jean she.. she thinks I'm going through a phase. Who I am, what I've been through, it's a joke that the universe is pulling on her.” I paused, thinking of how ridiculous this must have sounded to him. “She called me a child, Jean. She thinks I'm too young to know what I want. She thinks you're going to stop wanting to be around me.” I said, choking out the almost incoherent sentence. “She said that you're no good. That you'll leave. Maybe she's right. Maybe I am a disappointment to her, to everyone. Everything I do, it.. it's never good enough.”

He was quiet on the other end of the phone and for a fleeting moment. I was scared he wasn't going to reply but just as I was about to say something to remove the tension he surprised me by saying,“I'm never going to leave you Marco, you have to know that and there is no way in my mind you could be a disappointment to anyone.”

“Really?” I asked, my throat constricting under the simple word.

“You're my best friend. You're good enough. You're so much better than good enough.” he stated simply. “You're so good for me.”

“I am?” I hiccuped, rubbing my wet, itchy eye with the palm of my hand since my vision was starting to blur.

“Of course you are dummy and so as my best friend, I need you to listen to me okay? I need you to breathe in and out, alright? You need to calm down 'cause I don't want you to hurt yourself, okay? Breathe with me. In and out..”

I let myself breathe in sync with him.

“Feel a bit better?” he asked after a few minutes of nothing but my heavy breathing filling both of our ears.

I swallowed sharply. “Yeah.” I breathed. “A little.”

“Good. Okay, now do you need me to stay on the phone with you for a little bit?”

“Please.” I whispered, feeling stupidly helpless under the crushing weight of the situation.

“Okay. I will. Just keep breathing, okay? I'll be here as long as you need me.”

“Okay.” I repeated, nodding as if he could see me, keeping my voice low as I picked at the wool of my socks. “Okay.”

“Are you still okay with going tomorrow?” he prodded gently. “If not we can have a party for two at my house. Late night Halloween pancakes, chocolate and popcorn, just for you. Anything you want, we'll do.”

I sighed softly at the idea but for a fleeting second, I thought about how great spending the night with Jean could be. It was actually almost selfish how much I would rather enjoy spending the night alone with Jean over going to Reiner's party. But I couldn't do that to the rest of my friends, we had all put so much time into planning this and copping out last minute would really be rather awful. “That's,” I started slowly, measuring out every word carefully, making sure I could finish the long sentence without going back on my judgment, “that's really, really sweet, Jean but I think I want to go to Reiner's. I-I promised I would, you know?”

He didn't try and convince me not to want to go as I somewhat hoped he would. As soon as I said what I wanted, he took it in stride and was completely fine with my decision. “Alright, if you're set on the party, we'll go. We'll bus or something. I'll figure something out.” he replied. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“Thank you.” I said as quietly as I could into the receiver. But that was surely an understatement of what I wanted to say to him. I just couldn't force the other praises off of my lips.

_Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring. Thank you. I like you so much it hurts. You're so wonderful, and perfect and I wish I could tell you that. Thank you._

“Oh, uh, y-you're welcome.” he stammered back, the sound of creaking springs once again reaching my ears from the other end of the line. “It, uh, it's really no problem, man.”

“It means a lot to me.” I told him bluntly, realizing that the tears had finally stopped falling from my eyes. “You're my best friend too.”

He laughed off the stutter with a snort. “Ah, so the feelings are requited!” he declared in a victorious moment before he reached a moment of self awareness of how loud he was being and his voice softened again for my ears. “Hey, Marco, it's getting late and you have to get up early. You should go to bed.”

“'m not tired.” I lied, trying to ignore how heavy my eyes felt for the sake of him remaining on the phone with me. “Keep talking to me, please. Don't wanna cry again.”

“Alright,” he hummed striking the agreement with me. “you get into bed and then I'll talk. What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know, anything.” I muttered, standing up from the door and stumbling slightly as I headed toward the bed. I didn't bother to change my clothes as I threw myself into the bed and draped the covers over my head so I could focus on nothing but Jean's voice in my ear.

He cleared his throat, audibly.“ _Es tu au lit, encore?_ "He asked, his voice wavering the tiniest bit.

“That's french.” I remarked.

He snorted loudly. “You said to say anything. Now, are you going to let me talk?”

“I suck at french, I'm sure I've told you that. I can't make out what you're saying.”

“Does that matter, it's still talking isn't it? Besides, I only asked you if you were in bed yet.”

“Oh, well yes then. I am.” I told him proudly, wiggling within the covers. “Your voice sounds very pretty when you speak french by the way.”

“Does it now?” He inquired mischievously. I could almost hear his eyebrow quirk up and his lips twitch into a smile as he asked the question.

“Mmm. I like it.” I hummed admirably. “Say something else for me?”

“He hummed along with me thoughtfully, letting out song carry out for a few bars before he spoke. “ _Quoi comme ça, mon amour?”_ he paused, his voice teasing as if waiting for my validation. When I didn't reply he sighed, almost disappointed and he continued speaking anyway. _“Merde, qu'est-ce que je peux dire quand tu ne peut pas comprend? Quelque chose comme je vous trouve très mignon. Vous savez que, à droite?”_

I didn't understand a single word he said. Though, he said the words so fondly and with a certain affection in his voice, so much so that I couldn't bring myself to stop listening to him even though I didn't understand. He was the sun and I, Icarus, longing to hear the warm sound of his voice on my wax wings. I assumed he was talking about something that made him happy so I listened diligently, feeling my eyelids droop thanks to the sheepish and kind earnest of his voice overflowing in my ear drums, beating softly like tiny heartbeats.

“ _Sasha m'a dit que vous êtes très belle.”_ He continued in an almost whisper. _Un jour, je vais vous voir et ce sera le plus beau jour de ma vie. Je tiens à vous faire plaisir, mon Marco. Je veux être heureux avec vous. Je sais que...que tu est la personne la plus importante que je sais.”_

“What are you saying Jean? It sounds important.” I rasped, my throat feeling abused due to my exhaustion.

“No, it's nothing, just gibberish really.”

“You sure?”

“Mmm.” he hummed again.

“Okay,” I said through a yawn. “I think 'm falling asleep..”

“See, I told you that you needed to go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I huffed drowsily. “'m gonna go then.”

“Okay, I'll see you later.”

“Jean?” I interrupted quickly before he had the chance to say his goodbyes.

“Yeah?”

“Really, thank you.” I yawned, closing my eyes due to the fact that keeping my eyes open made them sting. “You're kind of sweet when you want to be.”

“I learned from the best.” he said impersonating my statement from earlier. I smiled weakly at the thought.

“Goodnight, Jean-Bo.”

He tisked at the nickname in feigned irritation but it meant so much to me that he waited for me to hang up first before he did himself just to make sure that I was alright.

“Goodnight, _mon_ Marco.”

 

* * *

 

 

I had always pictured Jean Kirschtein waking me up for the first time being.. I don't know the slightest bit of a romantic moment? You know the scene, us waking up after a night of endless talking, realizing that we fell asleep holding one another. The blushing, the stuttering, the nervous giggling, maybe even a slow, warm kiss. 

Come on world, I don't ask for much but please at least give me _something_.

But no, it was nothing like that. Just like always, the apple of my eye had to give me a hernia instead of anything sweet like that. You know the feeling of being startled awake, first there's the whole, “holy shit, what the fuck, am I dying?” jumping out of your own skin moment that makes you feel like you're falling; followed by the well beloved moment of realization that you are not in fact having a heart attack and that the only thing you want in the world at that moment is to decapitate whoever or whatever woke you up.

I picked up the phone, holding it limply in my hand and almost dropping it on my face in the process. “Hello?” I asked groggily, propping the phone up against my shoulder so I could rub the sleep out of my eyes.

“Let's hang out.” came the voice on the other side of the receiver.

“What? Who's th-” I picked the phone back up in confusion and looked at the contact name this time around. I shouldn't have even been surprised it was him. “Jean, what even?” I grumbled softly, stiffing a yawn.

“You heard me, pretty boy.” Jean demanded authoritatively. “Come on.”

_Pretty boy._

Shit, it was too early for that kind of thing.

Let's pretend I wasn't completely turned on by that and continue.

“Jean, it's like five a.m.” I muttered, running my hand through my hair and pulling my eyes off of the clock sitting on my dresser. “It's too early to even talk about hanging out. Actually, it's too early to be talking in general.” I clarified. “What are you even doing up?”

“It can't be that early, it's-” he paused in a moment of revelation before words came tumbling out of his mouth like an avalanche after the first snowfall. His voice adept, excited and playfully unrestrained and god, I loved it so much. “ah shit, sorry Marco.” he rambled, rolling his words off of his tongue carelessly. “I've been waiting for like two hours to call you and I couldn't wait anymore so don't fall asleep on me, okay?” Another pause for verification. “Alright so, I was up all night thinking about you and thinking about how much I want to make you happy. Anyway, I had the best idea and that idea involves _you_ having fun with me, right this second.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling my heart rising into my throat. “ _Someone_ is adamant this morning.” I rasped, attempting to make a joke even through my stomach felt like it was being injected with butterflies. _No homo Marco but I was up all night thinking about you and thinking about how much I want to make you happy._ My heart couldn't take anymore of this. “Tell me Jean did you get drunk before the party 'cause I'm pretty sure that's not how it works.”

“You know what, yuck it up, Marco Butt. I don't even care. I'm so hyped up on coffee right now I could literally run through a brick wall with my face. I swear I-”

“What's your idea Jean-Bo?” I interrupted. Okay I didn't mean to be rude and it's not that I didn't want to talk to him. It was more of the fact that it was five fucking am.

“Come here right now.”

“What?”

“That's the plan.”

“That is not the plan.” I denied. “That's not even _a_ plan.”

“It is.” he argued. “Marco, please.”

“Jean, first you're pushing me to go to bed, now you're waking me up. Make up your mind, man. Call me in a few hours when you've actually got some sleep, okay?”

He didn't listen.

“Grab a change of clothes, grab your dumb laptop that you bring everywhere, and don't forget your phone charger, you, Bert and I are staying at Reiner's tonight but right now, it's you and me time. We'll stash your stuff at my house until the party.” he insisted, not listening to me in the slightest way, shape or form; and that's when I realized that he was actually being serious.

“Jean, I'm not walking to your place alone at five in the morning. There's no way.”

There was the smallest pause before he asked, “Who said that's where we were going?”

Silence.

“..what?” I drew out, letting my confusion accidentally sink into the sentence.

I could hear him smiling even before he talked. “Look out your window, pretty boy.” he murmured.

 _Ba-dum_.

There was that name again.

Shit, I really, really liked that nickname.

In confusion, I threw off my sheets and stumbled over to the window and okay, this whole situation may have been a little bit more romantic than I had originally thought.

There was Jean standing in the street under my window clad in his pajamas an equipped with a large backpack. I could tell it was cold due to Jean's breath coming out of his mouth in clouded puffs. One hand was holding his cellphone to hisear while the other was looped around a leash and his walking stick that Schrodinger was tugging mercilessly on. I gasped, a laugh somehow finding it's way out of my throat and I threw my phone onto my bed so I could clumsily open the window though my fingers got caught in the white curtain in the process. “Jean!” I called as I finally got the old, rusted window open. “Oh crap.” I scolded myself and slammed my hand over my mouth after realizing I was shouting and the rest of my family was asleep just a few rooms over. “Jean, what are you doing here?” I laughed in a hiss like whisper. “And where the hell is your coat?'

Realizing I wasn't on the phone anymore, he lowered his phone from his ear. “This is me figuring stuff out. I want to take you out for some fun. You need it. You need to be away from here.” he called back up to me. “And I think this may be the part you ask me why my name is Romeo.”

I snorted out an unattractive laugh and covered my mouth again. “Okay, my Jean-Romeo, say I come down, what happens next in your genius scheme of things?” I asked through my fingers.

“We have an awesome adventure.”

I chuckled and leaned my head out of the window, letting the cold wind hit my face.

“My mom will freak out.”

“Leave her a note. Say you left for school early and that you're spending the night at Reiner's like a responsible adult would if he so happened to get extravagantly wasted.”

“She doesn't deserve that. Ah shit though, this is so temping.” I bounced up and down for a second to try and collect my thoughts. “This is crazy. Are we really doing this?”

“I told you I'd figure something out. This is my something. Trust me you'll love it. Also hurry up, Schrodinger and I are freezing out asses off out here.”

More silence followed before I asked to my own shock, “So, do you want to borrow a sweater then?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You're actually doing this with me?”

“..yeah.” I nodded slowly; unsure as I stuck out my lower lip in an almost pout though before I knew it my nodding had become rapid and excited. As my fingers tapped on the frame in a clash of conflict, I realized that I was grinning just as much as he was and I was bouncing up and down in my bare feet, nearly hitting my head on the wooden window frame above me. “Yeah! Yes, yes I am. I'm doing this. Let's go before I change my mind.”

Jean grinned, ear to ear, his hair blowing over his eyes in the most pathetically fallacious yet romantic way possible. He looked cold and excited and his eyes were gleaming with hope. “A sweater would be awesome then Mr. Butt.” he told me with gentle affection.

“Okay, I'll be down in two minutes, wait right there. Don't move.” I instructed.

“Deal.” he agreed quickly with a brief nod of his head.

With my head still somewhat swimming, I slammed the window shut as quietly as it was humanly possible to do while in an adrenaline based hurry. I prayed through my cringe at the loud bang that echoed through the room that my mother didn't hear it and had woken up. For a moment, I was dead silent, frozen in tableaux so I could hear every time the house so much as breathed. It was more of a precaution to pause my exploits than it was fear but none the less, I let myself take in a long breath and I wobbly started to move forward through the motions once again. Not at all liking the sound of floorboards creaking under my feet, I raced to grab a duffel bag from underneath my bed where the floor was carpeted.

The tattered, pilling carpet which was adorned with washed out yellow and red flowers felt scratchy and unappealing beneath my toes; like a cat's tongue or fresh sandpaper being used for the first time against my skin but I found myself far to pumped up and practically twitching on adrenaline, excitement and nerves to care.

I stood there, leaning over the duffel bag, staring down into it's black void like inside and I wondered for a brief second if this was a stupid idea. Now don't get me wrong, I knew that this was a _bad_ idea. There were just so many factors I couldn't account for. If this was a stupid idea though? I wasn't sure.

Thousands of ways that this little adventure would go awry filled my mind and maybe if I hadn't of been as upset and put off as I was about the things mom had said to me only hours prior, I would have stopped and felt to my head.

The thing is: I _was_ upset.

Logic was the absolute last thing I had on my mind in that one blind, fleeting moment.

I decided that this was a stupid idea but it was probably just as stupid as deciding to stay here.

In one rapid movement, I turned around to face my closet. I thought for a moment, staring into the mounds of fabric and tried to quickly choose what to pack. In the bag went my laptop, phone charger, probably one too many pairs of underwear, a pair of pajamas, jeans, two t-shirts and a toothbrush. In my rush I couldn't be bothered to find a pair of matching socks so I just threw a bunch of single socks that had previously been littering my floor into the bag. Among the variety of different mismatched socks were one wool sock, a Christmas sock adorned with many faces of Santa Clause, one of Alicia's ankle socks that I hadn't realized had been in my room in the first place and a soccer sock. Content with my packing, I nearly snagged my fingers in the metal of the zipper as I attempted to shimmy the bag shut without help from any of my body parts except the hand I had.

In a nervous haste I threw the bag over my shoulder and let my eyes shift once more around the room. As I did so, I took in a long deep breath through my mouth and I contemplated the whole situation over again.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment and finally made a decision.

In a sudden, new found urgency, I grabbed my two warmest sweaters off of the back of my bedroom door as I let a deep, nervous sigh emit itself from my lips. Setting down the bag again for a moment, I equipped myself with a gray flannel that whenever I wore; Eren claimed I looked like a tool. Oh well, Jean couldn't see so it didn't really matter.

I swung my cute, strawberry colored, zip up sweater over my shoulder to lend to Jean. Did I decide to give him one of my favorite, over-sized sweaters just so I could secretly fawn over how cute he was in my clothes? Little bit, yeah but that's nothing he could prove.

Nodding confidently to reassure myself; I quietly made my way downstairs with my bag in hand, being extra careful not to let the floorboards creak under my weight.

Grabbing a pen off of the counter top, I scribbled a small -remarkably brief- note to mom on a yellow pad of paper telling her I had left for school early because Reiner had offered me a ride (I exaggerated the time slightly saying I had left at seven not five in the morning) and then I quickly made my way out of the house to greet Jean on the front lawn.

He stood there chewing the inside of his cheek, looking like an angel in the near dawn starlight. His face was painted with a worried expression which was something I just wanted to kiss off and hug out of him but I quickly pushed that thought away and I tried to smile as I approached him. I stood a few steps away from him, just far enough so I could look at him in a peaceful admiration for a minute without him hearing my footsteps. There wasn't enough time in the world to look at him the way I wanted to. There never would be and so, for a millisecond, I let myself look at him with all the love in the world. I watched him lovingly ruffle the fur behind Schrodinger's ears as he took in raspy breaths thanks to the cold air. He shook his head and rubbed his hands up his arms, puffing out his cheeks as he tried not to think about how cold he was.

Damn, he was cute.

“Hey.” I cautioned, my voice low and unsure.

His head whipped up, his body straightening after it. “Marco.”

I smiled. “Hey, Jean I'm-”

Before I knew what was happening, Jean dropped his walking stick and the leash holding Schrodinger and rushed over to me and threw his arms around my neck. “ready.” I wheezed, dropping my bag in surprise. My arm coiled around his thin waist in retaliation.

My face felt like it was on fire. He buried his face in my neck, his cold skin making me shudder. His hands knitted their way into the fabric of my sweater and he sighed -almost happily- like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. I didn't know why we were hugging but I let him hold me, and I held him back because, shit it felt nice. After a moment he pushed away slightly to turn his head up to me and he blushed heavily. “Sorry,” he mumbled, biting his lip. “I, uh, I was just worried about you and well-”

I shook my head and pulled him back into the hug while Schrodinger whined at out feet..”Don't apologize. It's nice.” I told him.

I felt him smile against my shoulder. “Yeah.”

“You're so cold.” I murmured into his hair. “I brought you a sweater. Wanna put it on?”

Jean nodded, a cocky smile making it's way onto his face. “Hell yeah. You made me freeze my ass off waiting for you.”

“What were you expecting me to do?” I asked, slightly amused. “Invite you into the house while I snuck out?”

“Well _no_ , but it would have been nice of you to at least ask.”

I rolled my eyes and smirked at him. “Come on you idiot.” I extolled happily, handing him the sweater I had been holding for him. “Put it on and let's go before mom wakes up.”

Jean took the sweater and played with the fabric in his hands for a second. “It's not a horrible color is it?”

I snorted. “It's like reddish pink.” Jean made a disgusted face and so I continued, “Besides, it's dark. No one is going to see you or care what you're wearing and even if they do may I remind you that you are still in your pjs.”

“Point taken, calm down.” he huffed and pulled the sweater on. I had been right. He was absolutely adorable in it. It was baggy and the sleeves were far too long on him, though of course this wasn't a new look on him (ahem that stupid coat), it was a cute look. I didn't think I'd ever seen him in such a light color though the light pigment really seemed to suit him. “How do I look?” he asked holding his arms out wide for me to get a good look at him..

I swallowed, my throat constricting and dry. The thought stuck me that maybe if we were together I would get to see him like this more often. I would get to see him in his pajamas and in my clothes with his hair all messed up and with dark circles under his eyes. I would get to see him vulnerable and open. My breath hitched. “Good, good, it uh, suits you.” I confirmed.

“Don't patronize me.” Jean deadpanned.

“Seriously, you look _good_ , Jean.”

Jean turned his face away and bit at his lip. “Yeah, yeah.” he murmured as he bent over to pick up the leash and stick again. Schrodinger wagged his tail happily when Jean rubbed his ears since he was finally getting attention again. Never did think I would be jealous of a dog. “Are you ready to go?” Jean asked, catching me slightly off guard.

“O-oh, yeah.” I nodded frantically. “Totally. What's the plan?”

“The plan is,” Jean said placing his leashed hand against my chest, looking up at me with half lidded eyes. “we stop by my place, drop your stuff and Schrodinger off there and then _you_ will stop being such a nosy parker and just trust me that you'll love where I'm taking you.” he teased.

“Just trust you?” I echoed in the same teasing tone as I leaned into his touch. “That's all I need to do?”

“Mhmm.” he hummed contently. “You do trust me, don't you?”

I pulled away from him slowly and reached down to pick up my bag from the slightly damp grass and I gave him a wide, genuine smile; that I hoped he felt in the air between us. I nudged his arm with mine fondly. “More than anything, Jean-Bo. Let's go.”

 

* * *

 

 

The walk to Jean's was rather uneventful, we didn't speak much to one another. It was comforting though; feeling Jean's hand constantly brushing mine in an act of delicate reassurance. I really wanted to hold his hand and perhaps if I had two hands I would. The thought depressed me mildly but I shook off the feeling as best as I could. That early morning, the only sounds that filled my ears were the sounds of crickets in the grass, our footsteps against the cement and Schrodinger panting happily at our heels. It was peaceful and for a while I decided that I wouldn't mind if he didn't take me anywhere, just being here with him felt calming enough.

Once in a while Jean would hum to fill the void of silence and stop to ask me if I was alright which I thought was rather sweet.

I was falling so hard for him.

I didn't mind though.

When we arrived at Jean's house; there was minor turmoil, but knowing Jean, that wasn't very unexpected. For example, my bag didn't fit through Jean's bedroom window so we had to sneak into the house to leave it in his bedroom without his mom hearing us which was hard because she had fallen asleep on the living room couch. Schrodinger also decided to make a fuss when Jean told him to stay put while we attempted to leave by whining loudly and nearly knocking over a lamp with his tail which was avoided by me being fucking 007 or some shit. I don't really remember how it happened but somehow I had ended up on the floor cradling the lamp like a baby with one of my shoes missing. Jean told me that whatever I had done had sounded awesome.

You know maybe if I hadn't of landed on my ass at his feet, it would have felt awesome too but hey, beggars can't be choosers. If it had sounded awesome, hey it probably looked just as good.

We snickered together under our breaths as I turned to him and whispered exasperatedly about how much that fall had hurt my butt but Jean's snickers quickly became more animated as he let out a loud snort before he hunched over in a fit of giggles with his hand over him mouth and a clasped hand on my shoulder for some sort of support.

“What?” I had asked, pushing him out of the door and shutting it behind us so he could let out his unevenly attractive laughter into the darkness of the morning.

“Nothing, nothing.” he guffawed, waving a hand at me so I wouldn't help him out of his hunched state as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “You're incredible.” he laughed.

“Oh please,” I scoffed. “tell me that when you've had some sleep, Jean-Bo.”

“I'm not kidding!” Jean protested, grabbing for my hand and holding it in his own. “You are so incredible, Marco Bodt!” he exclaimed maybe a little too loudly for the time of day it was.

I stared down at our intertwined hands, a slight blush creeping up my neck. “Jean...” I marveled quietly, squeezing his hand with heavy affection, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes but for the first time in years, they were happy tears.

He found me incredible. He knew who I was. He knew my limitations and my fears but he was here for me in a moment where I really needed him. He cared about me and not because he had to, he cared for me because he wanted to. I started to giggle again but the giggles soon became a loud laugh that erupted its way from my throat which was followed by an unwanted sob.

Jean's face fell as his expression changed from completely ecstatic to completely terrified. “Shit, Marco, what did I say?” Jean asked pulling his hand away to cup my face in his cold hands as he desperately tried to wipe the flowing tears away. “Don't cry, don't cry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, I-”

“You care about me!” I giggled pulling him into a bear hug, squishing him into me as tears ran down my face. “Jean Kirschtein cares about me!” I exclaimed exuberantly.

“Oh you asshole!” Jean growled pushing himself out of the hug, hitting me hard on the shoulder with his fist as he finally understood what the outburst was about. “You scared me you moron! Don't ever do that again!” he looked angry but he sounded like he was relieved and almost amused.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” I grinned, waving my hand impishly in defense. “I'm just really happy, Jean. You make me so happy.”

The angry look dropped immediately and he sighed, a tender smile pulling at his lips. “Come on, doofus.” Jean coerced me. “The bus will be here soon and we probably woke mom up so I say we make a break for it.”

I nodded, “Let's do it.” I said.

With those simple words, he grabbed my hand with a laugh filled with childish wonder and took off running down the street dragging me along with him toward our adventure.

I definitely hadn't expected him to be serious about making a break for it but as I stumbled as he started running, I laughed along with him in surprise, happy tears clinging to my face due to the cold air.

As an eighteen year old, I didn't know much. The world was still full of secrets that I hadn't found the answers to but in that moment as we ran toward the bus stop; I knew that I never wanted Jean Kirschtein to let go of my hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, it's late, I'm tired and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> As always you can follow me on tumblr at makohar-eau if you have questions or anything you'd like to say off of ao3.  
> See you next chapter I guess? (Sorry for the delay on this one)
> 
> -Khaiyo


	7. Running with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two nerds falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Khai, what the hell you haven't updated since the summer." Yeah I had a major concussion and couldn't look at my computer for a month. Perks of being a soccer player. Anyway, this chapter is so much shorter than I planned. It was intended to include the party as well but because I need to outline my novel for nanowrimo, you will just have to wait for the next update for that. Sorry guys but I hope you enjoy the chapter (I thought it was pretty sweet).

Chapter seven

I have heard countless people say over the course of my short life that life is not about the destination, but about the journey. Though, this statement is sickeningly poetic and reeking of hope for those who fear what is beyond human understanding (mainly death); I've always secretly questioned the statement. You have to wonder: could life really about the the small plights when we face such a short time on this planet?

Up until this moment with Jean, I didn't really think so.

My life in my eyes had been pretty simple. I would stumble through life and travel whatever way the wind blew me. Every once and awhile I would come face to face with a new predicament and I _always_ handled it the same way.

I would focus on an ultimate end goal and not pay any attention to the experiences along the way. Doing this seemed more practical and less painful to me which was beneficial to my sanity but detrimental to me as a person. You see, I had a system. I would receive information and I would immediately let my brain process it into plausible outcomes. Take me having cancer for example, which is really when I started to put myself into this mindset. When my doctor announced the news to my family, my brain immediately put the situation into two possible outcomes: (a) I'm going to die and (b) I'm going to live.

 _Simple_.

Not once when I was given the news did I think: 'oh wow, chemo is going to suck' or 'I hope I meet a hot nurse' or even 'holy shit am I the protagonist of a John Green novel?' No. Immediately my brain told me that there were two ways out of cancer purgatory: life or death and let me tell you having a mindset like that was brutal.

In short, thinking like that had made me my own worst nightmare. It depressed me. It left me sad and cold and unwanted in my own skin. I used to be happy or at least I thought I used to be. I can't really define happiness anymore. Though I'm _sure_ not so long ago, I smiled for the sake of smiling and I didn't over think the simplest of situations. Not too long ago, I _must_ have been happy and frankly I hope I was.

But suddenly I was unsure. Was I still _un_ happy? I didn't feel like I was anymore but I certainly wasn't happy either. It was a really weird feeling. Foreign even. I didn't realize it then but meeting Jean, having him beside me in my times of weakness where I knew I could trust him and trust _myself_ enough him open the door so I could let my other friends into my life as much as I was in theirs- it was leading me away from all the sadness I had buried down inside of me.

Things were different with Jean. I didn't have an end goal for us, everything we did; I focused on the details. I focused on the small quirks I would miss later. The way he bit his lip, the loud footsteps we took and the wild smiles we shared. These moments weren't a destination. Every time we spoke, touched, breathed and laughed; each moment in itself was a small, wonderful little journey that implanted itself carefully into the the bones of my being. We were like petals of an autumn tree improvising their dance as they fell away from the twigs that held them so dearly and delicately to the branches. There must have been a destination for us but I didn't think either of us knew quite what it was just yet.

And that for right then was completely perfect.

For the first time in a long time, I was recovering. I wasn't happy but I darn well going to try to be. I owed that to the world. I owed it to my family, to Jean, all my friends but mostly, I owed it to _myself_.

Jean and I sat at the very front of the bus. Much to Jean's dismay: the driver had noticed his lack of eyesight and insisted that Jean and I take a seat at the front where it would be 'easiest' for us to manage. Jean grumbled about having a designated seat for a while since the rest of the bus was completely vacant apart from an elderly woman who sat a few rows away from us and vaguely smelt of beans but eventually he quieted down started to gnaw on his lip.

I didn't try to make conversation with him, I simply stared out of the bus windshield at the sunrise over the mountainside. From this angle, it seemed as if the bus was simply going to grow wings and drive straight off of the road into the sky right into the heat of the morning sun. It was breathtaking and yet I found myself not thinking of the sun's warmth but of the warmth Jean and I shared through touching hands and borrowed strawberry coloured sweaters.

With a heavy attempt, I tore my gaze from the window and let it rest on Jean once more. His face was highlighted in the mighty light of the early morning; his expression reading a stern and simple almost anxious look. His cheeks glowed red though, I wasn't sure if that was a mere effect of the sunlight glow tinted by the window glass behind him playing a trick on my eyes or if -for some reason- he was just as much in awe as I was at my actually being there on that bus with him. He seemed to notice I was admiring him through some sort of sixth sense and his lips twisted into a feigned, small smile and he nudged my shoulder with his almost bashfully. He looked uncomfortable and uncertain, like there was a question in his throat that he couldn't push out.

I missed his voice filling the void between us but I couldn't think of anything to say that would have kept his interest long enough to hold up some form of an actual conversation. As much as I loved small talk, I was pretty sure Jean hated it.

“Hey,” I murmured quietly in a slow, purred tone leaning closer to him so that the bean lady wouldn't overhear us. “You okay?”

“Mmm.” he hummed back quietly; his tone brisking on being seductive as he leaned closer to me as well, his mouth softly brushing against my ear. I could feel the warm vibrations of his hum echo against my neck and it felt _good_. I swear, I went rigid. I bit my lip so I wouldn't let loose a gasp or whimper as I tried to avoid thinking about his mouth planting kisses and his teeth grazing against those tender spots that I so longed for him to kiss and touch. The things I wanted him to do to me with that mouth, oh good _god_.. They were _certainly_ not Christian things.

Not that I was very religious anyway.

I wanted to pretend I weighed nothing and crawl up on to his lap and run my hands under his shirt and over his soft skin to map my way passed uncharted friend territory. I wanted to kiss him stupid and let him drag his fingers through my hair and yank and the roots. I wanted him to leave me tingling and gasping for air as his fingers brushed over new places that he had never explored before. I wanted him to hold me like I was worth something and not let me go until everything was okay.

I wanted him to fall in love with me as hard as I had fallen for him.

“Don't worry about me, _mon_ _cheri._ you perfect angel bastard. It figures that you would brake down like you did and then be worried about everyone but yourself. That's just so like you.” he muttered, bumping my shoulder once more for good measure to assure me that he was more or less kidding. “The next stop is where we get off.” he informed me as the bus driver read out the name of the next stop we would be passing by.

“We're at the edge of town.” I observed more to myself than him. “I don't think I've ever been here before. It looks kind of deserted. There's nothing but trees and beat up old houses.”

“That's reassuring actually,” he replied, his hands tightening around the shaft of his walking stick as he nodded slightly. “I was worried it was going to be different.” he mused.

 

* * *

 

 

“It's probably a good thing the bus ride was so short.” Jean rambled on as we hiked through a forest in the middle of god knows where. He held my hand tightly as he dragged me through the trees along the narrow path, clearly anxious to get there (wherever there was: he still refused to tell me where we were going).

Usually, I would be fawning over he fact that he and I were holding hands but in all of his hysteria he was being ten times more reckless than usual; which apart from stressing me out gave me the task of having to constantly pull him out of the way of upshot roots and large trees and potholes so that he didn't kill himself before we got to wherever we were going, leaving me stranded here. It was a team effort really of seeing who would be most likely to get the other killed first. “If it had of been any longer there would be no way we'd make it to my adventure spot with time to spare. What would the point of even coming out here be then if we'd just have to rush off you back to school? Time is bullshit I tell you. Maybe, I should have come over to your house earlier.”

“Earlier than five am? That's a laugh.” I huffed curtly, seriously out of breath.

“Time is just a concept of human perception, Marco.” he replied matter-of-factually. “It's an illusion that we've-”

“Okay, Jean, it's seriously -duck-.” I stated dryly, cutting myself off briefly so he wouldn't walk into a particularly low branch of a looming maple tree. “-too early for observations like that.” I finished pausing before I asked, “Are we almost there? I'm exhausted.”

“Yeah, yeah we're almost there. Two more minutes.”

“But I'm tired.” I whined pitifully like a child being rejected attention from their caregivers for the first time. The tone of my voice itself was annoying to my own ears. I don't know how I wasn't bothering him.

Jean glanced sideways at me, eyes drenched in compassion and slight amusement. “I am too but rest assured Your Highness: If I could see, I'd carry you.”

I felt my heart dance in my chest and for the thousandth time that morning, I thought about telling him how much appreciated him. I thought about how his lips would taste on mine and how his warm hands would feel as they inched their way across my skin as he drew constellations with trembling fingers. You know, the usual Marco thoughts.

In fact, these thoughts were beginning to tear me apart with a dire longing. Liking him was like a blissful void. It was an empty feeling because I knew that I could never work up the courage to express my feelings out loud to him but it was also a complete rush of adrenaline. Liking him made me feel alive and colorful. It made feel like I was a star, shining brightly in the ongoing, vast galaxy. It made me realize that I would never be the only beautiful thing in the universe but I _was_ something beautiful. “That would be nice.” I agreed softly, my hand gripping his a fraction tighter. I didn't want him to feel guilty about my agreement though so I added hastily, “But this Prince, though he may not have two able hands, has two fully functional legs and he intends to use them. But maybe if you're tired and since you've been up literally all night: I should be the one offering to carry you.”

Jean grinned cockily at me though his eyes softened around the edges. “Let's just both carry each other then.” he laughed, his short breath letting a cloud of air rush passed his lips, into the cool air. “Then there will be no way either of us will fall or get tired ever again.”

I knew he was being an idiot but I couldn't shake off the statement. It sounded like a promise. A promise that I hoped we would be able to keep. His soft expression urged me forward through the snapping twigs and crunching leaves below my feet. He made me feel like I was floating. Even though my feet felt heavy as lead, I decided not to bring up my discomfort again. He was doing this all for the sake of making me feel better, even though it wasn't a very traditional way of doing so.

It was very Jean of him and God, I loved that.

“Marco!” Jean exclaimed suddenly like an overenthusiastic child. “Marco do you hear that? We're almost there!” he frantically began tugging on my arm, pulling me forward as he tripped over his own feet to hurry me along.

“Ack! Jean, be careful!” I yelped as his pushing took a turn for the worst and almost landed us in a bush of what I thought to be Poison Ivy.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” he sang, not paying attention to my protests as he kept bulldozing us through the brambles of the untamed woods. My clothes snagged on razor sharp branches. The branches tugged mercilessly at the already fraying seams of my sweater as they poked and prodded the skin beneath it, which was annoying to say the least. I tried to push myself through the brambles to keep up with Jean's pace but that was a simple death wish for my clothes and so I found myself dancing a ridiculous tango around them. “Listen! You can hear the river!” he chirped excitedly.

“Jean-!” I began to scold him.

Suddenly, the forest ended and I couldn't bring myself to end my sentence.

What lay in front of me was definitely not impressive. I found myself vastly underwhelmed to be completely honest. In front of us rested a wide river that passed through the middle of the forest floor in the center of a shockingly small clearing. Above it on a particularly low oak branch hung a rope tied around a large, worn, rubber tire. Choppy water from the river splashed up and hit it, letting the tire swing carelessly by itself. Almost diagonally to the tire swing on the dry, dying grass sat an old rusty swing set and slide that the weather had clearly not been kind to. It sagged under it's own weight, begging for someone to come along and dismantle it to put it out of it's misery.

I felt sorry for it.

Jean on the other hand, was grinning like a child on Christmas. He absentmindedly stepped forward, as he somehow remembered exactly where the swing set sat and he ran his hand over the old metal bars. “Wow, no one took it down.” he remarked to himself.

He looked lost in his own thoughts and so I didn't reply. I decided to give him a moment as I looked around the clearing once more, wondering if I had missed something. Jean looked at this place with glee written all over his face but I could see nothing special about it. Was I missing something?

Jean threw off his backpack carelessly into this grass and stretched his arms out over his head, a large sigh letting itself slip passed his lips. Perhaps he had forget I was even there. I cleared my throat, trying to formulate something to say. “Jean?” I asked trying to ask all my questions at once by simply saying his name.

Jean bounced around to face me, his smile not loosing a second of it's rare sweetness. “Marco Bodt.” Jean declared, stretching his arms out to reveal the clearing as if this were my first time seeing a rare treasure in all of it's glory. “Welcome to Forte Kirschtein.”

“Forte.. Kirschtein?” I inquired dubiously.

Jean nodded enthusiastically. “Come here.” he demanded, reaching forward to take my hand in his. “Sit with me.”

I let him pull me forward and lower me down with him on to the grass. Apparently, he didn't want to test the swing set's strength which was honestly fine with me. It looked like it was going to fall apart if we even looked at it the wrong way. The grass, though slightly moist, was a perfect spot to sit compared to that rusty hunk of metal.

“I was so worried about you last night.” he stated blatantly, crossing his legs to get comfortable beside me.

“I'm sorry I worried you.” I answered, kicking idly at the grass in front of me and, mowing it into a pile with my feet. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I was ashamed. “I just needed to talk to someone, I didn't mean to keep you up. Jean, I'm so sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” he snapped back, almost harshly before slouching over slightly and adding a small, “please.” he sighed, leaning into me, his head resting against my ear. “Please Marco, you did nothing wrong. Don't apologize.”

“I'm-”

“Marco, don't.” he warned.

It was my turn to sigh. “I know, it's just a habit.”

There was a rough silence between us for a few brief moments before Jean broke it. He changed the subject entirely. “You know I was born in France right?”

“It's come up.” I acknowledged wondering where he was going with this.

Jean nodded. “Well, I was but my mom wasn't. She was born here in Trost but she moved to France when she was around four or five. She'd come back for the summers though and visit the house she was born in and I guess that never really changed because even after she got married and had kids, every year she would come back here with us in tow and stay from June to August. My dad always hated it though. He complained and complained about keeping a house we only lived in for three months a year every single day we were here. Naturally, Anna, Jake and I couldn't stand that shit and so, we went on adventures. Of course we didn't want to play with each other but none of the other kids in the neighborhood knew how to speak French so we were stuck with each other. Eventually we found this spot. The tire swing has always been there for as long as I can remember but the swing set...” he paused. “man, sneaking that thing up this monster of a hill: that is a day I am never going to forget. Anyway, coming here became our safe haven you know? When dad yelled, it was off to Forte Kirschtein for the day. I don't think he ever even found out about it. On the hot days we would swim and on the colder days we would play pirates, either way, all I have is good memories up here.” he sighed, squeezing my hand in his gently as I pulled my knees up to my chest as I focused in on his story. “Marco, I know that you're dealing with a lot and I really don't know if I'm helping or not but I want to. I know that you're sad a lot and I know there's a story there that you haven't told me but I won't force it out of you. I know you love your mom but I also know that she hurt you last night and if you want to talk about it, I just want you to know I'm here okay? Whatever you need, I'm here. If you need a happy place, you can share mine, right here in Forte Kirschtein.”

My eyes stung due to fatigue and tears I was trying to hold back. “Jean.” I murmured quietly, clutching his hand with all of the physical strength I had left. My lip trembled against my will. “I'm so scared.” I admitted.

“I know.” he said reassuringly squeezing my hand back. “I know. That's okay. You have every right to be.”

“I don't want to be like this anymore, Jean. I'm so sick of being sad and I'm so sick of people telling me how not to be sad. I'm sick of people telling me how to live my life and how I should cope to living. Nothing helps and I hate it. I hate me.”

“Marco.” Jean interjected. “Your feelings are valid, okay? But you have to know that there are so many people who love you, who care about you. Marco, you're so perfect: sadness and all. I'm here for you. I promise. Even when the whole world is against you. Especially when you're scared. I'm here and I love you.”

I nodded slowly, my stomach turning violently at his declarations. “Thank you, Jean. Coming here.. it helped.”

Jean nodded once more. “I'm glad.” he said, his expression somber. He didn't push the conversation on any further which I was thankful for. “Hey, Marco?”

“Mm?” I hummed.

“What do you want to do? After high school, I mean.”

I shrugged. “Probably head off to university, get a degree and then get stuck in a dead end job that has nothing to do with my major. You know, the typical stuff.”

“Oh, boo. That's a load of shit and you know it. Come on Marco, dig deep. What do you _really_ want to do?”

“Honestly?” I asked, looking up from the grass, a cool breeze racking my bones, making me shiver. “I want to be a writer.”

“Really? You write? How come you've never told me that before?”

I shrugged again. “I guess it's just never come up? I don't know. None of my stuff is really any good.”

“I doubt it.” he remarked turning his head up toward the sky, the soft breeze ruffling his hair. “I personally want to be a musician.”

“What, like in a rock band?” I asked raising an eyebrow curiously.

Jean snorted out a brash laugh. My question was apparently the funniest thing he had ever heard. “No Marco,” he grinned. “I want to be a pianist.”

I stared at him. Usually, I would have thought that he was being sarcastic but his face right then was completely earnest and open. He was being honest.

“Wait, what? Really? Are you pulling my leg?” I asked, just to be sure.

“Nope.” he quipped, a smirk playing on his thin lips and he shoved me gently with his shoulder. “As if I would lie about my dream about becoming the next Franz Liszt. Seriously, get real!” he exclaimed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “You totally thought you had me pegged, didn't you?”

“You are so much less punk rock then you lead on.” I mused, egging him on.

“Gee, thanks Marco that means a lot.” He deadpanned sarcastically with a generally less friendly shove that lead to me falling over in a very much over exaggerated gesture and simply accepting the fate as soon as my body hit the soft, cold grass. Subconsciously, I let myself sprawl out. Jean, apparently not yet ready to let go of my hand, decided to lay down beside me and lace his fingers in mine again.

I curled up into the fetal position beside him and clutched his hand to my chest. “How come I've never heard you play?” I asked tiredly, yawning and letting my eyes close as my eyelids suddenly became too heavy to keep open.

“How come I've never read any of your writing?” he shot back playfully though his voice was becoming thick with fatigue. The coffee he had been drinking to keep him awake was probably starting to wear off. “It's never come up.” he answered himself lightly.

“I bet you play beautifully.”

“Oh, believe me, I do.” he boasted. “Two lessons every week for twelve years will do that for you.”

I laughed shortly, my voice being the only coherent sound in the air around us. I held his hand tighter as the quietness of the world engulfed us again. In the silence, I remembered the words he had spoken mere seconds ago that I had simply grazed over in my self pity. Words I had been longing to hear come from his lips since the day I had met him. Words that he had spoken so confidently and platonically that I wasn't sure how to feel other than warm from the inside out. Words of promise and love. Carefully, I wedged open one eye so I could look at him square in the face while he answered my upcoming statement and squeezed his hand in mine. “So.. you, uh, love me, huh?” I asked, letting the remark to be set up so he could make some sort of joke out of it and my feelings in the process if he so needed to while he set me straight about what he had meant.

But to my surprise, Jean simply turned his head away from the sky and towards me and he smiled the most beautiful, open smile. He squeezed my hand back, a small blush painting his cheeks as he shimmed like a caterpillar against the grass to fill the fraction of space that was already between us. Slowly, he raised his free hand and gently cupped my cheek with his palm, his thumb dancing it's way slowly across my freckles as he affectionately swiped my hair away from my eye. I basked in the warmth of his breath and body. I enjoyed how close we were. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes showcasing his fear to do anything more without my consent. He was careful not to break the soft contact with my cheek or my hand as if he was scared that if he stopped touching me now, he would never get the chance to again. I leaned in toward him. My heart was beating far too fast and I feared for a moment that perhaps he could hear it. He answered sleepily, “Of course I do. More than anything. Do you..?”

Right then and right there in that moment I wasn't sure if my heart had stopped or for the first time in a long time, had started beating again. “More than anything.” I whispered back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! As always, you can follow me on tumblr at makohar-eau which would be sweet. Have a good day everyone!


	8. Together With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life lessons are learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short, sorry but hey, I wasn't feeling a long one. Enjoy.

Chapter Eight

Jean's mouth was so hot and the world was on fire and I thought that maybe I was going to burst into flames.

And it was nice. Oh my god, it was so nice.

So smooth and messy and so full of Jean.

He held me tightly to him, scared that I might perhaps evaporate in his arms and with the redness I guessed that was in my face, I just might have. One of his hands had somehow made it's way to my waist and he was drawing soothing patterns against my skin. Circles mostly. It felt wonderful if we're being honest. It was like a trail of butterflies landing gently on my skin. Timid but welcome. I couldn't get enough of the intimate contact.

His other hand had barely moved from my cheek. He was tilting up my chin and pushing himself against me, his legs hopelessly tangled around mine -nearly in knots. It as like he wanted to kiss me like there was no tomorrow but also take the kiss slow and be soft with me as he tried to take all of this moment in. He didn't make up his mind so we were stuck in the most amazing, awkward in between.

His teeth clicked against mine and he drew back for a brief second to make sure I wasn't in some sort of pain and he eagerly leaned in for another kiss. I met his lips with a warm, open welcome.

I wondered if this was a good kiss. I was probably thinking too much, like I tended to but I couldn’t help but wonder. I hadn't kissed anyone before. Okay, that's a lie. I'd played spin the bottle twice but I had never kissed anyone like this. Passionately. In love-like. Sprawled out in the grass, hopelessly groping at one another, struggling for each other like we were both the last oxygen tank at the bottom of the ocean. I had never wanted to kiss anyone like this. I hadn't thought it was possible that someone would want to kiss me like this either.

Definitely not someone as good as him.

Maybe I had given up on looking.

This was the first time I felt like I was living up to the horny teenagers stereotype.

I didn't mind.

I was kissing Jean Kirschtein and by some miracle or fluke of the universe, Jean Kirschtein was kissing me back.

Jean pulled away softly, a small smile capturing his lips while his eyes remained half lidded. “We should stop.” he whispered into my ear. “I'm stealing all of your air.”

I shook my head, wordlessly, my hair falling into my eyes as I tried to catch his lips once more but he stopped me with a chuckle and a hand to my lips. “Marco Bodt, even angels need air sometimes.”

“I'm no angel.” I murmured, slightly irritated that he wouldn't let me keep kissing him. “Just try to do good things sometimes.”

“Well, I don't.” he whispered in my ear. “I'm a selfish bastard.”

“I guess we match then.”

He shook his head. “Oh no, you're too good for this world, you perfect, wonderful flower. There's no way you and I could ever match but I like that. It means we're opposites. We complete each other.”

“You don't give yourself enough credit.”

“Neither do you.”

“Jean-”

He shushed me by wrapping his fingers in mine. “You make me want to be a good person.” he told me. “You make me want to be so much more than I am so that maybe one day I can live somewhere outside of your shadow.”

“You shouldn't have to live in anyone's shadow.” I whispered, raising both of our hands so I could simply look at the sight. “Especially mine.” I added.

He nodded his head solemnly. “You're right.” he said thoughtfully. “I don't have to. But since I am, I know that I wouldn't want to live in anyone’s but yours. You're just so _good_ Marco Bodt.”

I stared at him, at all of him. My gaze shifted from his hazy, clouded eyes to the gentle slope of this thin wrists and every detail in between. I reached out desperately to touch him, my movements frantic and suddenly aware of how quickly he might leave me if I let go. He laughed lowly and took my wandering hand and placed it against his heart and smiled softly at me.

He knew how I was feeling without even asking. He knew I was scared. He could read me so easily. I sniffed and feigned a smile. I was glad he couldn't see me in that moment because I wasn't sure if I was going to laugh or cry. Probably both, though. “I'm not.” I said. I'm not good, I'm poison.

Without a word, he drew me into him so he could kiss my forehead, denying my claims without even saying anything. I let him hold me. “You're so good.” he replied, kissing my ear as he whispered the words into it. “You're the fucking sun, Marco.”

In that moment, I looked not at him but through him instead. I felt the beat of his heart and the breath of his lungs, gentle and vulnerable at my fingertips and suddenly, I didn't know what to say.

So, I kissed him again and believed with all that I had that everything from here on out was going to be okay.

 

* * *

 

We had fallen asleep there, curled up again each other to ward off the nippy air using our coats as blankets. Jean held me to him, one of his hands on the small of my back and the other tangled in the ends of my hair. He was gentle, caring, soft and slightly foreign to my senses but he felt so nice pushed up against me that I couldn't bring myself to care very much. We laid there like a puzzle, unsolved and mashed together, out edges fitting together perfectly.

I think he was awake but he didn't say anything to me which was fine. His breath in my hair was good enough. It was peaceful and I was happy. I found myself hugging him tighter.

He laughed lightly and stroked my hair, burying himself closer to me. Neither of us wanted to talk or let go because if we didn't talk, we wouldn't have to answer the question that loomed in the air.

_Where do we go from here?_

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I elected to ignore it. I wouldn't let myself ruin this moment. But the phone was persistent and I sighed harshly and sat up, pulling myself away from Jean. He groaned drowsily in protest and tried to pull me back down. I laughed, leaning back down to peck him on the forehead as I awkwardly tried to fish my phone from my pocket.

Six unread text messages and two missed calls.

 

 

 

**From: Reindeer Sex**

 

_Yo dude, you gonna be here today?_

 

 

 

**From: Your Brausfriend**

 

_where r u and jean @_

 

 

 

**From: Your Brausfriend**

 

_ARE YOU TWO BANGING!!!!!!!?????_

 

 

 

**From: Bert**

 

_Please come to school. Sasha is making bets about your sex life._

 

 

 

**From: Suga Daddy Springer**

 

_use protection_

 

 

 

There was one from my mom, but I decided not to open that one.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed as I looked at the time. Nine o'clock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

“What's up, turtledove?” Jean asked, sitting up beside me, rubbing my back soothingly concern falling off of him like autumn leaves.

“We're so fucking late Jean, oh god, the school is going to call home and my mom is going to have my head! I'm dead Jean, oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck me. Jesus Christ, I-”

Jean looked at me for a moment with his brows furrowed and then his expression broke and he collapsed back to the ground in a fit of laughter. “It's not funny!” I yelped, alarmed at his expression. How could he find it funny? I was drowning right beside him.

“Are you in like, third grade? Marco, it's okay. It's okay. I'm not new to ditching. Here, dial up the school for me and give me your phone, alright?”

Since I really didn't have any better options, I did what he asked, my fingers trembling over the keys.

Jean took the phone and on what sounded like the second ring, he spoke up in the most calm, tranquil voice I've ever heard. “Yes, hello, this is Marius Bodt, Marco Bodt's uncle. His mother has asked me to call you and inform you that he will not be in school today as he is very sick.” he paused, waiting for an answer. “Yes, alright, understood. Thank you for your time, have a good day.”

After waiting for them to hang up, he threw the phone at me. “Boom. Done. Your welcome. Now, come back down here and kiss me some more.”

“Wait, Jean, what-”

“Oldest trick in the book.”

“You're going to get yourself kicked out of school one day.”

He grinned. “Probably.” I wasn't sure if I should have been impressed but I was. He linked his arms around my neck and pressed his forehead to mine with the stupidest smile on his face. “Don't worry, okay? If we get caught, I'll take all the heat.”

I shook my head. My anxiety was beginning to calm itself down. I was feeling better. “No way, I'd say it's more of a sixty-forty situation. You can take _most_ of the heat.”

“Jackass.”

“Mhmm.” I hummed, pressing my lips against his lazily in something that wasn't quite a kiss and he melted under me. “Hey, Jean?” I asked, pulling away from him in a sudden realization. “Did you say I was going to be away all day?”

His face split open into the most endearing smile. “Maybe.”

“Now I can't go to school, they think I'm sick.”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus, and I'm the jackass?”

“Yup.”

“Did you plan this?”

“Nope, but it sure as hell turned out in my favor.”

“You're an asshole.”

“Maybe so, but I'm an asshole who gets to spend the entire day with a pretty boy.”

“I hate you.” I mumbled pulling him in for another kiss.

 

* * *

 

Jean held my hand all the way back to his house. It was rhythmic, nice and calm. I let my head rest on his shoulder as his thumb went over my knuckles in a smooth motion. I didn't want this morning to be over. I was so worried that it was all going to end up being a dream. Jean's hand was my lifeline. As long as I held it, I wouldn't wake up from this beautiful dream and so I clutched it tightly. _It's not a dream._ I would remind myself but I couldn't bring myself to believe that. My brain felt like a Salvador Dali painting, everything was askew and in a state of weird bliss. I wondered if Jean felt the same way.

Love is like adrenaline. It's a mind drug that makes you feel more things than a human being ever should. It's weird and stupid and addictive and it makes you do crazy things that you wouldn't for anyone else. Love is abstract. It's like going to elementary school again when you should be headed off to college. It fucks with your mind.

Love is happiness and pain, all mixed up in one big bundle of raw disasters. Love is pure and innocent and absolutely worth the heartbreak.

Love is a little bit of this and love is a little bit of that. Love is me and love is him.

Love is a box of letters that I read every Friday night for months that led to my depression. Words spoken from a dying soldier man to his son made from pen and ink, formed into the last few words he ever wrote to me.

_Take care of them Marco. Take care of them and everyone else that loves you._

_I'm sorry Marco. More than words could ever say._

That was love and this is love, with only a fraction of a difference.

I was going to take care of Jean but he was also going to take care of me. Helping each other, as we get through the tough times: that's what love is.

I squeezed Jean's hand and if silently agreeing with me, he squeezed back.

Today was going to be a good day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, real talk for a second.  
> So I was going to just stop writing this because some people were being really pushy with me, begging me to update and I'm not going to lie, that pissed me off a bit but hey, such is life. I can deal.   
> It wouldn't be fair to stop writing this because I love it and you love it and your overall support has been amazing, just take it a little bit easy. I'm a very stressed out bean with a few broken ribs, cool?  
> Love you all and as always you can follow me on tumblr (makohar-eau) to keep up with the story.  
> Have a good day everyone!  
> -Khaiyo


	9. Not An Actual Update I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, me the author talks about new things that are happening

Hi everyone, wow you'll never guess how long it took me to guess my old password for this website and boy was it embarrassing. But yes, hello little eggs it's ya boi here with an update two years after I last posted an update of this story. Does anyone remember the plot? Anyway, I think I needed some closure on this story and I think that's why I'm writing this here. If you couldn't tell, Just out of Reach is practically dead. Not that I wouldn't come back and write it, but more because I think the Jeanmarco fanbase has died. This story was such a huge part of my high school experience and I have nothing but fond memories of it and I personally wanted to thank anyone who ever read my little story, it meant the world to me.   
But hey, no tears here. I am a university student and I only cry during exam season. If you're interested in what I've been up to, I actually just started writing again. Right now I'm working on my own novel and I'm very excited! (It's about a boy who lives on the back of a whale, I think it's dope). If you want to check that out, I'll leave a link to it.   
Anyway, thank you everybody who read this little story, it still means the world to me and hey, even if a few people want me to continue it after all this time, I wouldn't be happier to try.  
Thanks again from your friendly neighborhood noodle,  
-Mikhaila

https://www.wattpad.com/527850874-we-the-sleeping-ones-chapter-one  
^^  
you can check my novel out at the link above

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I really hope you enjoyed the start to Just out of Reach. It is kind of out of my element but I promise to work really hard on it. I may be turning this into a series and having another part from Jean's point of view but I am undecided so leave your thoughts below I guess.  
> Kudos and comments are so much appreciated like they are my motivation to work on projects like these. Besides, I would really like to know your thoughts.  
> Anyway, if you would like to follow me for updates you can find me on  
> Tumblr  
> http://makohar-eau.tumblr.com/  
> or  
> Twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/kaiyo_k
> 
> Thank you for reading ^-^  
> -Khaiyo


End file.
